Orat Zeppelin XIII

I attend to: do not worship; in a cursive act of faith I trust, lay out first,
Question later; there is nothing must destroy me after late as fuck comes
Crawling back, vocal at it – red approaching hand inviting further ruin as
We run, we conquer from the instinct. Outside in, homicide stronger than
At rest you’d think how quick you’d get away from. I am monster now,
I know them: they are speaking from the practice of descending into dark
And dreary rights, pass and plastic actuals. The rational as ritual as casual
And frictional on thirst and thirteen square, lean and unaware of sliding
Straight into the curve. The curling of the lip preserved in iced and blooded
Woe, name and any stupid growth the size of cough and inside out, loud
And drilling, corpus feeling sombre way upon its touch, taken gently in as
Much as many call to get me. Spiritual it seems, in any of the steps I take
To blue, steps I take to make my way from you and see where I should hide.
Between the knife and edge I dive, open face and exercised – vision of the
Hell I terrorise from here to where I’ll sit in silence. Quiet in the mouth of
Famous devil, suffered and especial: man transformer taking form from
All that he’s destroyed.


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