PSALM 2
let me in your dirty mouth
to cram black flakes little
doll in the rubric of breath
or tarnished meat tracks
beneath the desiccated fields
of porcelain and tench
have me swing through hips
along coal avenues and jaws
to pierce the dancing joists
far from this dump
as electric children
force upon the frigid pips
my gorgeous oligarchy
let it pump through smashing
institutes to choose hair endlessly
as gravure lungs race over
thumping ground and spill
between the stagnant stars
let your dirty mouth
exercise the triumvirate
or engineer fur sockets
in love of torn cloth
on the pressurised tanks
with one investiture of eyes
then move among the bleached
reels and humming teeth
to leech the proper channels
as our leather future
culminates in bruised tides
and chrome winds all yes at last
then can the wittering wires
charm each golden hit from
rusted fleets in mud drifts
or Spartan crawling halls
among the same healing weapons
and planks of food again
while frequencies continually
falter singeing each eyelid
and the coarse seeds split
or dead fat captains dry
under the chemical
searing monologue
give me your dirty mouth son
as smoke potters over cables
and the room draws in its legs
as nails split and char
as ballast tanks falter
and the cakes go feeding out
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