An ass eaten with filthy hands
dividing it as if the dirt
under those nails of his could
ruin the purification of a crucifixion,
death is just the beginning, putrefaction
disintegration, a tradition of change emanating
from ending, necessary transformation languishing in
the chain of alchemical processes by
which shit turns to gold, going
through something is getting to its
destination, perfectionism in the bedroom is
the sin no one but a
virgin believes in, heretics prefer precision
to theorizing and hypothesizing every wrong
bringing to life the death-giving armageddon
we strive to extinguish by imbibing
passion instead of being passionate, Christ-like
in giving a shit about being
born again when all of it
hits the fan and the only
way out is to dig in,
to get head when crowned with
thorns desire warns our flesh with
as it is about to burn
without remorse those of its victims
ignorance tortures until all knowing returns
with a vengeance to inform, porns
into being some reason for the
storm of being born into this.