in the dark it implodes

a thorned hand creeps down to consume
and pierce the flesh of its inner being
with might and passion, a wretched cradle
forms and in slow fading frames emerges
a potent lava, chunks of thunder emptied
and lungs empty, the anticipation of it erupting
eight seconds apart with vocal chords tearing to
strands of pleasantry and broken resistance,
obtuse angles in twelve times gravity and in the
end a statisfied grin