USAI

I will drown you in your own scum.

Christ the enslaver can get fucked.

Your money is brainwash,

your gardens are artificial.

Your country is a prison

for cattle willing to be led.

There are worse demons elsewhere,

it's true: nowhere for you to run to.

I'm talking to a part of my own soul.

In your bus stations I build

cathedrals of burning rubber.

I don't rip your saints from the walls:

I let their barren faces stand

as a testimony of your nullity.

Your spiritual death continues

in every avenue.

You have overflown yourself:

your ugly sprawl has ripped you apart.

I will stab the remnants with hate,

and that hate will become joy.

Your sacred scriptures are reels

of rotten monotony.

You speak with a liar's tongue.

I rip it out with a reverberant pen.

I stake you to the territory

that you have named, and I shit on you.