Raised up from soft white dust,
sticks for brains, rocks for eyes,
built with the boys I trust,
head, shoulders, knees, and toes
I dove in your snow guts.
Sticks sliced brains, rocks rammed eyes
ground apart by scorched hands.
Knees, shoulders, head, and toes
thinned into threshed lake sands.
Scorched hands ground you apart.
he should have loved your
thinned and threshed sandy heart.
He will smell my rancor.
I should have loved your
smiley face, Junior, but
he must taste my rancor.
Witness my shout and bout.
Watch me dive in his guts.
Smiley face Junior, spout
my burden, this fresh trust.
Comfort my shout and bout.
Sink back to soft white dust.
by: Lukas Forester
Leave a Reply