A buggy stops below a dune
In an arid acrid jungle
And a chainsaw dies
As a fuel tank empties
Halfway through a creature
After chopping through a demon
With a sharp evil eater

Holes in a burned shirt expand
While sparks from a rip cord land
Third degree upon a hand
Splitting on grains of sand

Revving with the motor
Ripping and tearing
What one can afford

Mixing with shrapnel
And splintering gravel
Cracking organic axles
Supersaw able to handle
Its sting
Through trees and diamonds
And things that breathe

Now a chainsaw revives
With a can of fuel
Taken from a buggy
At the bottom of a dune

Hoisted up to be started
A rip cord pulled
Revved to recover
To conquer a dim jungle
In hot pursuit
Of any angels

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