-simple pleasures in the death of the soul-

       i sift through the blood
       of curdled meat children-flower
       weapons cant decide which ones
       to enjoy....the most beautiful
       destruction of our evasive nature
       is the word of god himself...
       little girls cant enjoy...
       the possibilities are limitless
       and non-existent...words are
       the embodiment of all that is
       evil...and good...maggots flounder
       on the inequities of the words
       they choose...they represent...
       the flowers of romance....of lies...
       of hate....and a doctors joyful folly
       of things he couldnt create...
       healers cannot heal...liars cannot lie...
       and preachers cannot speak of the
       atrocities they made...