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Sourceless, rhythmless, heartless. |
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I scan the desert. |
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Since I, in my beasthood saw the dancers there. |
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As my hands, two tiny figures, came visible, |
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Like a carnival of flesh. |
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A union of monstrosities. |
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Curveless, boundless, eyeless. |
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I flee from the source of my agony. |
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Since I, in my beasthood, took form |
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In new, alien anatomies. |
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My limbs towering, mounting in celebration. |
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Murmuring the approval of new glories; |
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New threats, new intimacy. |
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With this, I am fit to charm the Devil. |
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Sneering down my pale face. |
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I am erect with his anger and lust. |
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I am the grace of them all. |
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Still sneering, drooling, floating. |
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Breeding curves of hell. |
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And shreds of pre-human gloss. |
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This softens those songs to dust. |
