70 percent prairie, I care no more for laws.
Crushed under tongues.
Can I be a potter? One that can build subterranean tombs,
Just like the cops?

Ornamentals of truth, Out of reach of our children.
Gagged and molested.
Don't trust the bonds. Flat-faced; replaceable.
Nations pass. Half day, half night.

Crawling up my cold feet, I sink into the end of the couch.
Looking at your entrails, I bite my tongue.
I feel a whisper of dead pleasure swindling away what I stand for.
You lick my throat as my eyes roll back into my skull.

Lifted up and rolled over, an invisible rope is strewn across the arm rest.
Tell me this is how you cracked all your other puppets.
You smile and wait for me to decide what's best.
Set in stone, my fate was never complex.
These snakes will leave your heart and fill the whole in my chest.

Are only womyn angels?

"I like pulling out your baby teeth."
Looking down at the twelve-year-old girl,
String-to-finger.
Scalping her bones. Shunts in the brain.

No remorse to the little one.
Growing. Closing. Losing her sense of wonder.
Why wander anymore? It's safer now.
Shit-sack of bones in a bow,
Sets it in front of you.

I don't want to remember how bad it felt
To manually turn their heads;
To walk them to their deaths.
Burning their iris', I put her to bed.
You're safe now.

Nothings going to ever feel like this.
It's not going to feel fine, but you can break my skeleton,
And you will eat at my mind.
But it's flowing lively through my heart. It blooms through my eyes.

And the deceit which you grew will fester and rise.
We don't belong here, eventually we will be cast out.

The leaves have this curl to them;
Racing past, golden hues like wisps of a horse tail not yet fenced in.
No more stiffening of this black substance.
This is more beautiful than pleasure I read.

One by one they fall, taking the last year with them.
Away from me.
Candy apple red; I want my lips to match.
But I can only see the glow around me,

Shedding its skin.
And full like everything else,
It helps me molt then retreat.
I'm so fucking sick of being humyn.

Static is what I lay my head upon.
Watching you build this city:
Cities built upon an idea of eternity.
Refugees and restrictions.

Your consumption is like scripture.
Stunted growth because of the shadow.
Daily life is the temple.
Master. Prehistoric. Fucker.

I am the worm that moves from page to page,
Reaching for his arm, patched-up stripped sleeve.
Steel spirals shine from their vests.
This is madness. Pure darkness.

Burning death-flies and contorted flesh.
Looking from the line, they mumbled.
Streams of steam tumble.
Drifting from our gums...

A wish for the clouds; pure harsh rain.
I am the mixed menace.
I am the half-bred whore.
They didn't ask for anything but our mothers forest floor.

Szomorú vasárnap száz fehér virággal
Vártalak kedvesem templomi imával
Álmokat kergető vasárnap délelőtt

Bánatom hintaja nélküled visszajött
Azóta szomorú mindig a vasárnap
Könny csak az italom kenyerem a bánat...

Szomorú vasárnap

Utolsó vasárnap kedvesem gyere el
Pap is lesz, koporsó, ravatal, gyászlepel
Akkor is virág vár, virág és - koporsó

Virágos fák alatt utam az utolsó
Nyitva lesz szemem hogy még egyszer lássalak
Ne félj a szememtől holtan is áldalak...

Utolsó vasárnap

Couch-dweller, he hides in secret.
The last pair of eyes under the hall closet.
Can you balance? Can you show me yourself?
A mission to the junkyard

(Just trash stretched across industrialized land).
For the first time,
I've found something I've been searching for.
Anything.

His body, a bone casket.
Can you keep me company, Keba?
Because I can't sleep with knives anymore.

You cant you can't you can't
Treat me like this.
Wicked and winged rubbing my eyes.
There's no limit to what a mind can absorb.

A pounding, pulsating anger that is no longer humyn.
Glorified Dawn, I spit in your face.
Come at me, try and eat your most precious host.
Give me the soul of a giver, teacher-preacher.
My roses will bloom where the tide touches the sky.

Dealing. I'm always just dealing.
Strewn about, pulled too thin.
Thinking about what's about to rip.
"I think I know you from a past life."

Being cautious, always watching my back.
I've been attracted to you like a fly to a mucus trap.
I've always been wrestling your internal pain.
Woke up from dreams where I undressed you from a priestly gown.

I played with dangerous toys and suffered a catastrophe.
It began with deafness and shut me down, now with dreadful shrieks.
The lights go out. The house shakes and implodes on itself.
Concave-mirrored walls, my own head has bred its very own version of distress.