My plane lands and how sweet

MY PLANE LANDS IN HELL

My plane lands...
and...
Where the plane landed.
Such clouds, such clouds, how they cling to the noble cities.
The noble cities and the structures of thought!
Cities of god?
How well they´ve been mapped out and in, through out i can find my way.
Such blue nothingness, how shall i find my way, the stumps of white smudges they are no clouds but blotches left by the storm!
Where the plane landed and the embarking of salvation, and the burning sensation on my back which still hasn´t left me. I´ll spend myself as if i were currency. Could you adjudicate my entry...
my admission into oblivion.
And with all these constrictions and restrictions I have a nice narrow path which corresponds with the maps of hell, maps of hell that were set out for me like little packages under the pine.
The plane landed on my hangover, on my awakening in anguish, pure coincidence.
One strength in the burning clouds...
Such clouds, such clouds the pillars and columns of psuedo ancient greek cities.
Such lies, such structured lies and how we can tell ourselves what the heart of our existance demands before it even emits it from it´s poisonous studios.

Flying reptiles how could they be any kinder? As their cool blood is kept far from my hot hands. Look at this flight deck mess, and here stands the sourest, the best abortion survival that your church ever condemned.
Confusion in the womb, and in every part of you.
The only thing we share in common is the sun.