My way with god

My flesh smelled of hypocrisy as I cleaned the skin of my teeth with the  
heart I stole from the morgue, used  
once before too shatter the thoughts of angles and northern comets, written to fit a fairy tale. ..
 
I dress in mangled fever, for the pleasure I tweak towers over my plague of true deliverance of a sinners rage, outlined in brimestones of domestic cologne' s with the taste of envy ,that I peeled from the hands stoned in readings of a nun dressed to kill a crow...
 
There I waive good bye,too the sounds of ambition, clocked going crazy along the rage I've bagged to fold among hello and I,as my way of begging charmed the alter boy to feed me the blood from the wine as if he assumed I was sent from the heavens, for God so loved the world ,he asked to borrow my interest of life after death,question'ing should a nun bare her chest..As I dress in only my cologne. .,,,