METAPHORM 

i am lovingly fascinated with this storm as we try to tear Babylon down with battlefield remedies

The night belongs to poets, madmen, and my revolutionary pornstar Jesus who is crucifying himself on electronic versions of yesterday’s news

It’s been so long since i’ve been home that i’ve forgotten Mother’s laugh but

there lies a truck stop philosopher who once pointed to the psychedelic stars saying you can never go home again and

i can’t recall his laugh, either

The red dress i wore that day turned black becoming a Midwestern Classic loaded with

pomp & circumstance, stars & stripes, death & taxes

i’m on my eighty-seventh transformation cutting atonal chords and severing velvet ribbon ties

The gods return with different names; ancestral Valkyries reminding me of a warrior’s birth and a bargain struck for a drop of mead

Soldiers of Debauchery, we rebel on

As icons fall from grace in another nocha oscura

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