I am one of those whom God hates.
I sank balls.  Ate fire.
Placed guitars in a bad place.
And shoved splinters of ice
into the nostrils of the sultry.
I put a two hundred pound
laundry lady in my head.

The hills rolled like lakes of gas.
Broken treetops cracked the fenders
of the automated body.
Paint settled into albino hyena eyes.
And I was born in an anal conception
flinging roses to the flagellant core.

Stabbed into the fat cushions
with a scepter of ink.
Fucked by a destiny that speaks
my angles into namelessness,
I weep the horrible name.