Tungs

Before there was fire
And then there was rain
To wash down all the souls
Into the weeping abyss.
I see you father,
As I see my own mother;
Her nature, her face,
Ingrained into the stone
Upon which you laid your pleasure
And made men to conquer mountains
And slave in pits
With blood in the bottom
And ice in the top.
And you wept for the servitude
Of the eternal and her cunt,
And the excrement we sink
Into your valleys.

I see you now –
Be with me;
Penetrate;
Give me your skin of feathers and eyes of tulips,
Bless me your love like the leaves of the wind that howled
Down this track
And away.

Be born.

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