Plague! If Im hungry
Its his bread.
Its your fridge.
Plague! If the carpet
It is not under my feet
Youve hit
Its your underwear
If Im without anything
without everything
Its all yours
Plague! The ashes of my life
From the fireworks of the likes of you
We were not numerical
A handful of zeros
The sap of the tide is suffering.
Less than you and
Mourning for you, but
My sadness of one day
Youre a year tall
Plague! Look at my hands
Open sores and blisters
And hot and china
These are the lines of death
You are the omen of you.
These are your fruit worms.
History Rope
Ring on my throat
Infertile penis
Gods Grace from the Ceiling of the Hole
My body is ready
Youre a hole.
Plague! How much did you buy us?
To be a broker in your market
Plague! How much did we sell?
To close our eyes and be dumb
You have plagued the roots from the bottom
So that the lineage of the axe may be destroyed.
We were not infallible, but
We werent going to be criminals
I stabbed the blood of theft in my veins.
The mercenary soul is like a dog
You bit us
Im going to get tired of it.
Plague
Resembling a self-team
scoundrel
Plague
Fathers bread with stepfathers soup
Mother, the bride of strangers
Flowers in the Borrowed Soil
We didnt get married.
We did not bear fruit
These are all from the pest of your garden.
These are the traces of your whips blood.
