The Electric Line

I fall. I fly. All within the electric line. Between houses. Here and there. Pipes, chimes, electric chimes. Frankly, there was nothing. There is nothing. Emptiness, without you. The bone men play the bone horns. They sound death. Death, falling off the ledge of grass. Cheering among the grass. Cheering among the grass. The grass which hides the bugs. In the heart of these bugs is a vile. Within it burns an ember of maroon. Maroon like your fingernails bathed in the blood cascades. Beautiful maroon. Glistens like marvelous design. Design upon bittersweet lips in the ecstatic room. This ecstatic room, looming above the electric line. Electricity that buzzes.
There are no moons. They fade to nothing. you are not real. you fade to nothing. Descend. Decline. Decay.  Leave behind. No more suns over the green pastures. No more. The fingers can no longer type. The nothingness creeps over me like a wounded animal creeps over the earth, their victim. Their blood leaking behind them vomit the babies you wished you had to hold and cradle. They have the eyes of lizards. The feathers of dead escapades lost in treasure maps.
I shine like divine and sip tea with the line. The line that ebbs into the deep blue deep. It blinks with eyes of illusive melancholy. The crevasse cries for you. The crevasse sings a song in homage to you. The song sends tears down I. The bile melts within me and toes fall out of proportion. Seeking love and purchasing razor thin vegetables at the astral shopping center. No more descending.
The bone men sound their bone horns. You don't hear a thing. You are their marrow. Then, in hell. The heavens empty their pockets and find the doves. You! You've been looking for them! You melt in joy.

All of my auto writing after this post shall be saved up and put into an automatic book. I'll make it my nightly ritual to add onto it right after I finish proofreading this last story of mine.