by Michael Petit
my soul thrashes in this temple
knocking down this ancient altar
shitting on this sacrificial heart
howling, squealing, cackling, sighing
taking that gift and in plain sight
shredding its fibers with venomous
incisors and smiling at the wreckage
ugly, horrid, foul, rank, sewage
what once was cerulean fair
became the devil’s black canvas
semen, spit, shit, piss
creating obscene images of hell
mocking the holy mother and
fucking the father till tears
ran dry as arctic rock
gaping at the atrocity, shaking
with despair this heart
rots rots rots