FOR BLOOD
asking for trouble
telling me I’m
not allowed to, supposed
to think
like that
as if I’m dead in the apotheosis
of Solaris
Chris
Kelvin about to be absorbed
by massive
alien love
and so
I throw philosophy, or its
kitchen sink equivalent at you
hoping to
shift your
tectonic plate
Nietzsche warning about the abyss
but here you
go falling
into it
silly me, silly person
must be
a horrible species of
xenomorphic extraterrestrial alien
having
thick satirical acid for blood
poems 2 die for 