slay the beast
wrap thy hands around its sorry throat
1 slay the beast. the one who calls to you, whose frayed voice sings to you— wrap thy hands around its sorry throat and squeeze. 3 wear beastly stinking pelt like wondrous, shining coat whose layers and trusses and train stretch on and on for endless leagues, as beastly death-stenched fur drags 'cross scorched and smoldering earth. 5 drink beastly profane blood lips up to open artery flow like healing tonic, like potion of life eternal, like tears of God—crystalline, golden, forbidden— oh unholy, oh delicious in the capture of stolen essence— my god i have forsaken thee, with even the sip— my soul i feel flush with the presence of fire— be nourished by sacred beastly sanguine flow! 7 crush beastly bones beneath thy sopping heel! wear cartilage down til shard and mineral, til poison with which to salt the breathing earth! til plague with which to stop life from inception! til sword with which to declare war on heaven and hell! til all is mosaic-shatter in glistening image of calling void. 82 oh, my love, as thy lips devour beastly form, feel thy own horns sprout from thy curs’d head... 666 know all that death will make new life, budding up from gore-soaked earth, blooming out from darkness of fetid wound— branches heavy with burden of beastly flower and fruit.
