[001_balancing elephants (on the backs of mice)]

We built a god with the tears of children on whose broad shoulders stood the proud arrogance of living creatures/ He walked with the awkward composure of a stained beast, the guilt of his crimes smeared across his face/ and a silent grin that offered little save the muffled violence of caged hornets.

His was death swallowed by life, a ruined hell, dysfunction by design/ and a course marked by blood spread like fire on the tongues of liars, thieves and rogues/ the eyes of a hollow god revealing the incongruity of finite existence/ individual perceptions of corruption erupting in the uterus of flies.

He saw midnight in the hands of men, carbonite devils of grease and sulfur/ and with every heavy symphony of sighs memories were resurrected as misery/ The disaster of a butcher's knife bringing closure to the wonders of the world/ these luminescent abberations of televised theology keeping pace with the soft spasm inherited by worms, they were footsteps leaving sin on the soil. 


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