I frame the means of his work,
Faceless and boyful
Dissolving somewhere between love and abuse
Successfully regenerated in some rigid idealism
Shaking the wings of his terrible youth
Calling to join him -
The wretched and plastic
No more alone or himself could he be
No shortage of sordid,
No protest from me
He's The Angel of Death in The Ketamine Scene
Feeling less human and hooked on his flesh
Straight from the fields,
All frightened and fertile
Bloody and raw,
But I swear it is sweet
Lease the unsettling,
I'll wonder the concrete
Wonder if better now having survived
He's The Angel of Death in The Ketamine Scene