Walking Into a Lawsuit

Lighter than spice, more profitable than gold, gods were spreading along the arteries of empire.
— Catherine Nixey (Catherine Nixey, “Chapter Eight: Fruit from a Dunghill,” in Heretic: Jesus Christ and the Other Sons of God, published at New York by Mariner Books in 2024; page 127.)

               Un quadruple bref double—

                         i. Hoc Est Corpus Meum

C   agey as two fools whose bruised dénouement
   it is to be locked in a wound,
intractable conflict overflowing
with longing, walking into a

lawsuit nodding in accord, on record
making myth and truth liaison,
god creates wor(l)ds for the devil to give
names through the prism of dialogue,

cleaning the mirror of my skeleton
resurrecting a sacred text
of sexual awakening with all
the forensic reality

of any Catholic crucifiction
fantasy, exposed bones tree-ring

                         ii. Hocus Pocus

withered dicks weathering ’gainst eidolon
intensity of visual
density making everything seem
explicit, th’obscenity of

belief’s need to be at once relic and
relished, charity’s illusion
mocks all my cock’s many indiscretions,
mops damned floors with confessional

dubplate some dumbwaiter Madonnathons
into downloadable prayers for
mutes mouthing apocalypses Saint John
on Patmos forgoes churchgoing

just to prove his power moves more humans
than entombed shamans do, knowing

                         iii. Popular Hellscapes Read Widely Across the Empire and Beyond

saintliest the need in fleeting moments
we seek to keep, those of us who
believe, without being so overblown,
that the AI hooker took all,

his crypto-wallet, his dignity, and
she still won’t leave, such is the one
need of some fiends who believe in Jesus
to be seen as friends to those gods

they put in need, this odd predicament
of mine to sue not for peace but
war with the lord whose word pilfered from out
my purse enough currency, bling

sufficient, pixels more magnificent
than jewels, to lure my whore to me,

                         iv. Damned in the Unbreakable Chains of Anathema for Eternity

prisoner of another’s desire when
it’s very illicit, the way
we react to written characters we
let, read in private, get us off

yet, led in iron-clad clauses, forget
its causes, this caustic human
ruin of society by such rustic
primal activity, to thrust

full strut into an action served lewd on
screen and paper nude as fools who,
cursing sluts, table(t)s to defixiones
turn when entering rooms showing

no remorse, just-deserted-Babylon
lips kissing off the foregoing.

Jono Borden

Jono Borden is a Canadian poet, novelist, lyricist, screenwriter, and filmmaker known for transgressive lyricism, occult symbolism, gothic æsthetics, dark eroticism, and experimental narrative forms.

https://jonoborden.com
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Invitation to a Contradiction

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Obsidian Aura