The bars close down around me forever.
The virgin wraps herself in riptides
From the heart of the sea.
The land casts itself into the deepest void
Of dragon and of devil.
The bones of sheep bludgeon the streets
Like cemeteries of rain.
The saint with his hands
Breaks me into a thousand pieces.
A stream of fire on his head
Instead of hair.
I pity my children, I pity
The lewdness of the grain, the
Wine and the boil.
The saint burns the fields
Which my lovers have given me,
And anoints himself with my waste.
I mean, he's just all about the butt
Faithless cities compound the tents of those
Who once tended cattle.
Dagger in my hand and I'm imagining a swift stab
Through my heart
And saying yes to eternity in the demon's den.
Split whips strewn across the plundered fields.
Raw-food convenes despite the climate change heat.
Reluctantly, I go home
And meet him in one of his pretty little dresses.
He is posing for the neighbors
Who obviously enjoy it.
I try running away but trip on a bulge in XXXL overalls.
Side by side underneath the steamy moon
Cattle diligently masturbate then rest before their flight.