We’d fire our nuclear missiles in celebration
And dance in the acid rain, through crystals of atomic winter
Lightning would be like liquid electricity
Pouring from the garden hose like sparks
A pandemic of horizontal flow
That would feel no worse than the caress of a flower’s petal
Against the face
Karma would be but a space on a dusty shelf
Religion, the face of an aged headstone
We would be our own reality
Of heaven under earth
Naked would frolic the streets with indifference
As the morals of a guideline
Watch forever put temporary into lockdown
We’d feed on the need
To not do anything, to be everywhere simultaneously
Seasons would be but reasons
Reasons none but excuses
As to why one hand holding fire
The other gripping ice
We could kill each other
Because it wouldn’t work
Revival, salvation, rational
The mold of an overflowing dumpster
Knowledge would take a back seat to now
Who needs infinity and beyond
When right or wrong
Is but a lucky pluck from a top hat
All stones eventually dust blowing away in the wind
We’d feed ourselves to each other
Regurgitating reincarnation
By skipping the middle man, afterlife as aftermath
Disease would be a hobby, famine a festival extravagant
With nonexistent questions, we’d always have the answer
That didn’t matter
What if we didn’t die, we could stare straight into the sun
Never give thought to done, beat the drum
Until the canvas was hung, all outlets depleted to none
We’d just find another one
If life times infinite squared was just a number of days
Then what would it matter anyways