Controlled Mayhem Then Erupts

This moon was a planet just like earth

Only it is even deader, deader, deader

The pistols of its flowers are the only protection

Against insects, which were

More preoccupied with the

Half-rotted inhabitants soiled to the brim

Under their own garments

History tells us of their blood

Flowing down one leg and up the other

Memories insoluble to their conscience

Memories outside themselves in a twisted prank

Played upon them by dogs

Tired of chasing their food

Thin oxygen curves their posture substantially

Flashes of their purpose

Stripped to skeletal ornaments

Of meat and resin from animal marks

Flicker over the loudscreen

Machines hum quietly in the distance

A few naive inhabitants wander

Foolishly after sundown

In search of black spots

But no one leaves this moon carefree of memory

Survivors often match their hands upward

Towards greater satellites

Wronged in the eyes by a million miles

And a million more bodies to sift through

The smaller creatures have the secret

To pinning us down to the dirt:

When they breathe, they inspire

When we breathe, we expire