Vagabond Soul

Church of Excrement

with rings on every finger
I know what your eyes are pinned for
though you besiege/beseech me now
you can't help how you feel
rank hands all over your breasts
you are now all that thy detest
as their soul surgery floor is mopped up with your petty wishes
on the buzzard's crutches you're choking
as your flame grinds down to loping
sex sick soldiers inflict damage to every hole
and it's your heart's ashes they will scatter
like a child discards a candy wrapper
and their church of excrement is not in control

so...

remove that carcass from my lawn
all the bad shepherds have cum and gone
your trauma armor seduced with cash
the kill arena nature in collapse