The girl in the back room of the club is a scientist
“Nature abhors a vacuum”
she says with slickness
Her collagen injected earthworm lips
please the God Emperor King
they call it transcendence
Blake called it the rose’s sickness
the cut worm forgives the plow
the uncut worm contains more juice and flavor, and feels better doing its thing
I find salvation not in pleasure
but with you, a dirty dream
Pay no attention to the corpse behind the screen
The Haunted Typewriter 