underground the seeds are spoiling tears that water them are boiling dropping spare hints in the round (can we convince them not to leave us?) underneath the bones are peeling from their casings they are stealing undergone and now unbound (they still long for incarnation) in the background if you listen burning little fireflies glisten floating flames like hot ash from the fire in the foreground we envision fishes puking ammunition minds are dirty like the dishes and those sacrilegious fish what you wanted now you've got it is it what you really wanted could it be you were misled? where on earth are grasses greener than the pipe inside your head? now we're guessing you've expected far too much and now instead minds are dirty like your hands when you push through some other mans precious little sopping wet it holds you tight with little hands it seeps out through the spaces like a trembling stream in spring it closes on you sucks the fears out makes you feel like you can bring the whole world crashing on your head with out the consequence of death but did you know that as we grow we learn that death is all we get? your whole point of view has failed you seedlings are what turned you askew seeing rightly confiscated what you thought love consummated giving in to feeling fleshing bodies in your bedroom meshing what gave your life cause for threshing? who'll convince you not to leave us? waking in arms ritual religious and not spiritual sex is sex and love is lust (and who'll convince you not to leave us?)