In the Tesla-alloy Skyscape

I am coming in the 7th density, coming through the fallen ribcage with arm extensions.

Some galaxy in the eye collapses and tears the leopard in half like a rag wraith. I am cata-cata in the unwraith, I unearth myself in attics; twist the capa off the mummified cata to get to the wolf-data, my forearms shrap off the root system, right off of the sycamore spewing ejecta into the ecosphere.

I am coming in the tree-pod swelling, coming to amputate the Methuselah.