to assure the powers
would bugger me whole
(get it?)
with assent from some Almighty
I wouldn't recognize
even if I had no preconceived notion
coming up the street at me
with obsidian eyes and meat-scraped talons
claiming uselessly to be one of the sheep
when it's really the horndog shepard
who because we are made in the image--
is the spender of sexed self-hatred
for which we are recipient of
terrible affection--
if I didn't know any better
I would say I asked for it
simply by obeying ethical stricture
but then
I've never had great regard
for the self-- so much what I must be
I took for granted
what fools rage to establish--
that there is no executioner better than
our own awareness setting up what
could
perfectly be described as
roundly fucked----
Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.
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