City of the Dead

Storm this city of dead black blood,
Shake its foundation,
With your screams of the moment,
As you dig our trenches,
Sharpen our bayonets,
And build our barricades,
Let God swim straight through you,
Let Him bleed into me,
Let the Devil come in too,
And suck me dry,
I am dull of all this,
Lame to existence,
On a cot with mangled limbs,
Blue balls,
And severed heads,
Feeding the ravens,
And feeding the crows,
You make me feel new,
You make me feel whole.



Hungry shining,
Corners soaking wet,
And burning,
Crossed stars,
And across the street,
Holes in my head,
And the holes in yours,
If not lost,
If not in question,
Something reminded me of something else,
It might have never happened,
Stalking the scent of a memory,
Preserved passionately beneath pavement,
Laid with conditioned behavior,
And triggering reactions,
Crossing the street again,
As stars hit the Earth,
Embarrassing passers by,
And endangering species.