it seems disease is futile
on a rubber ball filled with smoke
only those
the unnatural
the ones with gas masks
and paper heads
choose to look up
and straight ahead
at the heat and the burning gas
however the below
the rats
the undead the young
inhale sharply
and allow serpents to fall from their tongues
and star-spangled galaxies
to fall from their fingertips
smoke up
inhale
the coloration of the untold is unique
limited and limitless
trapped behind a screen of glass
lemmings
will run far ahead
by the time the air clears
until then they will die
on a loop
with the
cicadas
in tune
to the barking dogs
and the suffocating rats
in tune with the smoke
as they should have
all along
