Eso-terrorizm

Heat breeds heart.
Resistance,
stands punitively over,
heaved and ho'd writhing bodies,
drenched,
in constructed illusion,
something from nothing?
Or something outside our narrow delusion?
Equally as broken,
as prone to eso-terrorizm.
Bliss bombs,
come in ones hole,
this is what's known.
Solid,
hard,
fact.

Our planets,
seem to be spinning,
on the same axis.
Blown mind and cock,
one in a sweet place,
occupying a space of time,
so intangible as to be art.
The other in a laundromat of dubious character.
Who'd a thought,
this love,
peace,
pleasure,
comes with implements of torture.