It has been many years now,
And I have been sending my branches out
Trying to encircle my planet
And choke it from its rind
And squeeze the rancid innards out as
An offering of incense to my trembling Infinity.
It has been many years,
And I can hear alchemy
Mutter dimly on my neck
And I can see gentle flat fingertips
Lifeless in repose
And I can feel myself breathe.

But let me speak now of my theme--
Humanity is the infestation of the Earth.
The Earth is the running sore of the galaxy.
The galaxy is the infection of the universe.
The universe is the leprosy of the Absolute.

What then is the poison?
Are we not all prototypes of the Real?
Is our misunderstanding not designed?
I do not trust Nature, yet
My mistrust is born from that same womb
And I am locked in her pattern,
So when I find my elixir
I will murder her with my hands,
I will inhale her last breath.
That too is her design.
So am I infested.

I am but the sum of my pains
Spreading, trickling,
Etching my little paths with bloodied fingers,
And I am nothing else yet
I am the one who will unmake the Real.
I am going to smash this world.
That too will have been her plan.
Even so,
I will cleanse this decaying Universe.