To breathe in, black out, say grace ‘fore I push you down the hill,
To burn the cards and swallow all your cash just for the thrill,
To plaster broken souvenirs and fill your blood within-
Blood I dip my paintbrush in to dye my wolfish grin.
To smother you in scented smoke, to pet your pretty nose,
To pluck out tens of tiny thorns, then gift a poisoned rose,
To shake your hand in solemn faith, then kiss your kindred slayer,
Confetti on the battlefield, salvation in my prayer.
To write a sordid verse, to hope, erase the fiendish thoughts,
To learn I cannot kill the snake I so devoutly bought,
To bury all my knives and tools, my gory time capsule,
Till this lust for godly thoughts trips down some unread fool.
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