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Sin Into Virtue
Do you know what I was told by
that lying, laughing bastard
still trembling in the corner back
in the kitchen where knives are strung
like teeth on a string tied around a pearl neck?
You are such a dear, like my friend Madness
sinking back in his chair to watch the show
of dancing dancing dancing dancing butchering
my feet that would be such masterpieces
if only they took on that taffy-like bendiness and lost a few toes.
Falling like a fool am I
to his smile of glass and slabs of concrete
wrapping tendrils around this blackness situated
behind my steel breastbone and abnormal protrusion--
a stake with no head.
Is it fortunate that
my wings are not sewn to that man’s hands
they’ve lost their feathers millennia ago
when malnutrition ate away from the inside
and maggots slithered in through invitation
to this party’s banquet.
Just pluck the nails from my fingers
Suction the whites from my eyes
Pierce away at the stringy veins on my skin but
they may not hold on those ghastly needles.
But do not steal away my charred and blackened cannibalistic abyss
or else I should not be poisoned from sin into virtue.
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