Phlacid

Jesus Christ,
The leader of the mice.
He wears a crown of thorns
Underneath his horns.

Blasphemous?
Yes. Yet tinted with hate,
With a shade of wisdom.
I am the climax of your orgasm,
I am the tick in your muscle spasm.
I am the heroin in your bloodstream,
Now go on, cum on her face, scream.
I am the wound on your arms,
I am the pain with no harm.
I am the blood on the hair,
I am the anger in the glare.

Don’t you dare trust her.
She’s a witch, a hag.
Now go on, fag. It’s your
Turn. Burn with the rest,
Let your hero molest you.