Roaring dawn’s holy verse into a hollowed turret full of raw white fires

Peering at the mournful rows of druids and the chalices of incense burning on the bogs

Smoky churchlights, searchlights and seraphs blink in ancient code

Crows hang clutched above in the naked bare oak with hooded guns

Crippled , dry, I drink the divine bloodlight of the morning, with my eyes

And I, a cock! A cunt! A lousy pillock! Standing here with my cock in my hand

Wanking over LA porn, strangling my venom onto my knuckles only to watch it

Congeal in the pale cloudlight

I look to the gutter and envy the wet moss there, inert and earthy and sodden and moist there

And imagine my corpse becoming enveloped by its permanence, its wholeness

 

 

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