This is nothing
This is nothing
In my hollows feeling inane
trailing the dust footprints of my body
In the vapid misting dream
I see her laying faceless naked
In the bloated fog with the halos
of the angels caressing
Yew in shade among the olive ground
in swollen skies behind the sun
On heaven life tides waves
He rows black clad with the shapeless chosen
They mount to surround the worthless sow
reuniting whore with host
and on these olive ground
beneath the violet sky she dies
