There is no place like OM
Number 33, the year of severance
The year of mental reacquisition
The year of familial liberation
The year of the brutal bore
The epoch of the shadow
sliding down the stairs
The time of the curious
keeping their distance
The end of ends
Looking cuter in the dark
Only dead things live here
Christ, you have known
everything,
so tell me of your shame
Looking at your history through me
and surmising as i might
We dont call this hate ~
it is a distance marker
along the way
Teach me please
of thy beautiful brutality,
hidden from contemporary
public eye
I will find solace
in this twisted solitude
Jesus i release you;
Christ of I, of thee
We are imbued