to stand in the shadow of the wound mark in the air

may i see if someone is alive by gobbling his come

short my little lambs

still to slow

to stand in the shadow of the wound-mark in the air

so tell us mother wendy, what are you wanting more?

smell dead rose dead rose smell rose smell dead, dead smell rose

spell its name?

and if my thought dreams could be seen they'd probably put my head inside a guillotine

boys have a thousand muscles to wriggle with