Art is a loaded weapon and i'm a pacifist

time i got this off me
out of my interest
show them who i'm after
let them know this is no test
I fed the infant wicked
till they stood on crooked stems
now the caps spread over us
in a starless arrest

mmmmmm but how do i put you back into my mouth
how do i shove you back into this house
they saw we birthed an insectile fruit
reared on Apocrypha, a seven headed truth

let it all hang down
let them all see up the skirt of my sins
it feels like it's drenched now
the water's broke and i'm flooding the lungs of my kin
i'm bleeding out the door
those drops breed a hundred more
i'm not connected anymore
but i'm coated thick with matte black like a
harlot's cilia left on the floor

time i felt the softening
of meal spoiling worms
read between the chalk lines
and you'll find you never knew where you were
when you began to seek light
the hazy glo of knowledge
will erect you to speak life
into a dead man's ears and he will know
the evidence in his betrayer's guise
he will find revenge in a fortnight
and the certainty of bloodshed
sure does make us feel right