Swamp Sickness

Swamp sickness runs its course through these severed veins––
Spewing sick across the forest floor
Feeding weeds and growing trees amongst those other wicked things
This crooked nail will be the last in your coffin
The hammer drops and silence falls (euphoria)

Swamp sickness runs its course through these severed veins––
Blood will flow into this rocky soil
Volcanic ash and rising peaks, and all the havok this will wreak
This crooked nail will be the last in your coffin
The hammer drops and silence falls (phantomgasmoria)

Mountains will rise out of pillars of salt
And rivers will flow from the human gestalt
Deserts will strew out of urns full of ash
And marshes be dug from the graves of the past

Native son––one by one

Drag it to the ground
On a mountain of fuzz
In a landslide of sludge
As pilgrims we trudge
To the weedian land, beyond the sand
Of the hourglass ticking––
Grain
By
Grain