Thoughts In Your Morning Cereal

Casting thoughts of the future like searchlights           
this is worship.
The halo of attention sits atop storms of desolate mindscapes    
like little bloated O’s floated in bath scum. 

Frosted CRISPR Cas13’s deployed 
in your morning cereal. Dad says to eat up.

Viruses create havoc— an attempt to take control of the host.
Then ooze blob-like out of the light of attention before turning
into dark smokey shadow to regain the high ground.

With this my daily bread i shall take to infirm the wretched—
part of a complete breakfast!


halos shoot arrows with razor blade precision
germ warfare has been declared. But it’s Dad’s war, and didn’t 
he also say not to fight in other people’s wars?
NOW WITH SPECIAL CHOCOLATEY CASING!

Snip the disease of our humanity
until we are no longer human. 
Now we started a war
that we can’t win.