The Future’s a Gemini

Two-face after Taurus,
battlefield bridge that follows
the chorus, uniting match in
a forest divided along
a stream,
while all
astrology screams at us without anchor,
reading off tea leaves of anger.

Two steps after Aries,
results may vary but this is a queen of
subtlety,
horoscopes of hubris
in her stars.

Twins of twisted
opposites on either side of a single,
stream-of-conscious skin,
much to the chagrin of those caught in the
drowning middle.

If you gentrify the visual,
the morals become residual,
and little by little
visceral intent becomes
an emotional investment,
cascading consent to
rescind humanity,
trade it for vanity or chanting at the steps of hills, threatening to kill over the colour of grass leading up.

That any blood would be spilled is the Dr. Hyde of iconoclasts.

The future is Gemini,
but that doesn’t mean jack when every other sign is
a galactic castaway.

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