Soul.Its scissors fell asleep
Fitted through Its pouring
Filled It frightened
The tears of 1917
Suddenly couldn’t spring
Through sunshine
And all was rain, rain, rain
On a shallow day
Reports of a massacre
Suddenly, It couldn’t sleep
The apes of damnation
In pleasure skirts
Soiled from limb to limb
All became a jumble of terror
after squadron . Tell me about
meadows of sandalwood
miserly landlords eating virgin
sabots , tarnished frames
Frequent fairies crouching
Down a black lane
It holds a gun - Its my hand
Small as a bland dog
Vigilant against the radiation
Of the same
Heaven is the cold space
In between Its legs
Heaven is safe from the windows
you can put away
God is a gun is a dog
Barking over the fence
At unfamiliar smells
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