Love is is the epitome of pataphysical self deception,
disdained and rotting from the inside out,
strained crys from the shepherds dying son,
lost souls of chronological madness laugh in the guise of strange fruit,
bearing witness to the tearing flesh of mothers scorned,
sacrilegious harmony whimpering in the cold death,
returning to the land where the Pharaoh died,
eyes whipped shut,
eternally salvaged souls from self cannibalization,
the end of living, our suffocated light.