Greed and sin and fatigue possess our flesh, we wear the richest
quartz to wash away our stains. Like a pet we feel
the guilt, our tears lull us to remorse.
We sink into a pillow of a million writhing worms, too stubborn to move,
Each day our Free mind will suck and kiss vapour
We’re discontent to show our secret streams of captive cries
Into the stinking pit of Man’s Will, “We’re great now!” we cry, but turn back to
our woeful design, each day we offer vows of faith and
charms to each other, but turn to filth to flow into our lungs,
A tormented art, A banal fate, As we deconstruct passion,
A solitary riot, A shrivelled nerve,
A flask, A phantom, A Madonna skull.