Yucky, Smelly, Warm

The first bead of sweat forms at the center of my forehead
While the rest form around my crotch.
Yellow leaves reflect poisonous intentions.
I may step back into forever
Or return to a period of contemporary consumption.

On the back of this business card
There's a message meant for a disciple.
The chills follow my fingers,
Arms,
Chest,
To the tips of my hair,
Flowing in the indoor breeze,
An imaginary convulsion relieving my sentence structures,
Forming skyscrapers of corruption.

We handle karma like golden quarters,
Determined to add the total til our deaths are infinite,
Taking away the reputation that newborns will make a difference.
I want those aliens to touch down and grant us evolution
And burn the land so only we govern ourselves,
But you are only dreaming,
And death is only escape from prison.

You can control stress,
Destroy it.
This is all a test of will,
And you're your own guinea pig.
Best of luck...