Metaphor metaphor my pestilential aesthetic



A tsunami powers through my mother’s ruins



Delta delta moist loins of the republic



Succumb to the low-lying succubus do!







Flagpole flagpole my father’s polemics



A bouquet of fuck-u-bastard flowers



Fist me embrace me with your phantom limbs



Slay me with your slumlord panegyrics







Flip over so I can see your pastoral mounts



Your sword slightly parting from the scabbard



Girl skulls piled like fresh-baked loaves



A foul wind scours my mother’s cadaver







Ornamental Oriental techno impresarios



I am your parlor rug your chamber bauble



Love me stone me I am all yours



Pound Pound my father’s Ezra







Freedom freedom flageolet-tooting girls



Dancing on the roof of the maquiladoras





