you and i
and the goddamn truth/
the wall of shame/
the sea of static
not fucking but begging
scratching
a cold room in a burned house
thirty years after your father dies
someone's wife tied to the bed/
says it hurts then asks for more
and this is the fantasy
but the baby is awake
is crying until the mother cuts
its arms offand what i leave out of this picture
is the voice of god because
every priest sounds the same
talking through a mouthful of shit
every hand is a fist
searching for someone weaker
look at your children
and understand
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