To nature you are a parasite; hirs bitch, hirs suicide, hirs shit, priority number: less than grit. Ze leaves you to waste in a sepulcher, where your mind hardens to rock, rocks soften to brain, you may leave, you may stay, either way, you will go insane.
You resort to feeding on a specific kind of carrion so that you can carry on. Consuming your big toes, then like a bird for its young, regurgitate, and eat them again and again and many times again.
Thru gaps in the rock, nature taunts you with hirs reproductive organs. Ze is intersex. The sun, XX and the moon, XY. Day and night you watch the sky climax and nadir.
Pulpy half-moon crescents levitate below your blood-shot eyes. The red, splatters of a flightless bird. Its guts mushed and toes curled like bowing rosettes. Rhizomes of brain matter creep between your teeth and in the ground of your gums.
Grey matter, white matter, what kind of matter doesn’t matter, its matter is all that matters. Dried fecal residue festers in the ruts of your palms. Little gardens reeking of vegetables rotting, not yet entirely rotten.
You step from natures mouth, the cave. Hirs hot breathe consumes the tips of your hair, and you stand beneath the masculine sky. Ze lets acidic rain drip onto your pale skin, your pores, kindalike small pails hoarding water laden with unhatched mosquito eggs.
Looking down from the cliff, you stare into hirs pupil, also a pond. Timidly, you bite your lip as though it were a cactus encrusted with ants. The cliff wilts beneath your weight, kindalike a bulimic flower purging sun and rain.
You are food poisoning so you are heaved. As you sprawl head first, your brain falls from its nest and flies for the first time. Your its mother bird so you entice it back to its perch with a toenail as a treat.
The fall is as long as eyelashes; extended, and curled, until every atom belonging to you falls into hirs pupil. You are engulfed, blinded in hirs dark stare. Thru the blue iris you see that you are not alone: Termites gnaw on termites gnaw on tree trunks gnaw on ground, chitters of birds echo in deep bands like the small voice deep in your mind, snakes, long like black nose hairs, stalk you on the bank with broad follicles as tongues, and dorsal finned germs nibble on your rheum based patina.
You rub the iris until the sky presents a glutting, entoptic phenomenon. You float as white discharge, kindalike a dead fish wearing leeches as a muzzle, an eye-patch, as nose plugs, letting your senses be leeched senseless.
You lick yourself with your pumiced tongue to the rhythm of a birds song sung. Ze blinks and the rapids rapidly rapid. You transcend; thru pupil and lens, thru vitreous body and optic nerve, coming to in hirs brain.
You grow. You leech. You kill and breach. Your a parasite; ze is your bitch, your suicide, your shit, priority number: more than just grit.