Belching Squelching
fire and stone
hovered and frightfully alone

the taste of hatred
so bitter and vile
like the venom of a cow snake
milky yellow bile

hear all the trumpets
you shiver so cold
as holy spirits
dance and unfold

is it a dream or is it now
my eyes bug out
beyond raised brow

I see holes in his hands
I see foot prints in the sands
that carry me home

I see holes in his hands
I see the footprints in the sand
that carry me home

Breastfeed the pig
on national tv
your sweat and shaking
your silver seed
frothing tounge
and foam at mouth
as the entire life show
is like a water spout

It plays on and you see the stain
as the white light hits you
and you grunt and drain
as the spiral light goes out
and something warm like blood
goes trickling down
hear reality's thud

I see holes in his hands