187, all angelic heathens have mansions in heaven

as the moon drinks in
the autumn stridulate
I chip away her
marigold manic facade

as she belches bleached mimicries
so her confirmation rests
in a collection of manifested lies

it's a fire sale
and you are all kindling
chock full of split embers
choked strands
heisted from a grand oak

who came back to whack
the mumbled shrubbery
of pidgin ailerons
and cancerous beauties

seeking acquiescence
leading them on
with a placebo beacon
of sickness

those misguided automotons
as I rattle my cephalic
in gibe

last week
I watched a priest
practice his molestation
technique
on voodoo dolls
oh how they giggled
during the bleed

as they queefed
a twiddle dee
tweaked twerk
tweedle twisted
nurple scratching
a purpled scrotum
with a twitter dum
redrum booger picking
thumb

you got that son,

I'm not sorry
to leave your
adrenochrome
chamber
numb

laced within
milk carton cryptograms
I seep
into
glacial sleep

to peel away
your asbestos
abscessed
âme

within your sar
scarred scarcophagus
that coughs up your
pnuemaccocal pneumonic
phlegm

for I'm just another
bionic narccissist

who knows
no end
within the mean
mien
of sin.