by the intoxicated theatre's illusion
there's always the old astrognostic
apothecary
selling the beautiful new diseases,
fresh from places
no one's ever been—

they fill your skull
with prismatic pools
of deliciousnumb fiberoptic
ants (buzzing)
that learn
and chew
and dissolve your name.

you'll need a cure
(but the cure is illegal)
and soon stainless steel
mentally ill calla lilies
crawl through your
eyelids
exploding like
spaceships learning earth's gravity
without enough
time
to learn
how to land.