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2001-08-18 - 8:02 p.m.

i hate burning this way,

i wish i could burn slowly

and enjoy the lash of the orange beasts tongue

caressing my body with the chalice of Jehovah himself

holy angels,

you are no longer allowed to sound the bells in this part of town

y'all ain't wanted

i wish the trees wouldn't stare at me like that,

trying to pretend that they knew me back in Kenya,

when i loaded the freighters full of the failures of the ocean,

and your hand constantly reminded me that i was a stranger

holy angels,

you are no longer allowed to sound the bells in this part of town

y'all ain't wanted

i have decided to kill the orchestra,

i can no longer stand to hear the sounds of dead leviathans rumbling in hell

and the chorus of jesuits taking their flights of improvisation

clawing at my lungs even as i write this

holy angels,

you are no longer allowed to sound the bells in this part of town

y'all ain't wanted

y'all ain't wanted

 

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