Faustian Miscarriage
(Purity of You through Eating your Self)

On Dani Compose

“There’s a million slaves on a million tapes
All filling their heads with ambivalent snakes
No need to create, just feed them some weight
Now I’m stuck on a fence between pity and hate”

They gave me politics so I gave them irony
So they gave me part of it so I gave them all of me
Then I gave you harlequins, you gave me an army
Then you gave them hell cause I made it a policy

I found a romance in a dead computer
I knew her from before I had decided to shoot her
Her gigabytes fighted with my millionth wife
I deleted their minds for the millionth time

They all wore tall and crooked hats
Had laser fights inside the city
Crept around, they looked like cats
All ghosts, they’re frozen; sick and gritty

I fed a man another man
I did what only mothers can
We’re bothers; one is eating hands
We’re on a different planet, man

He was god, I made it good
He rose; he nods at the bloody wood
I broke him like I said I would
He only does what I say he should

I found no weight in calling out
I found no cash in falling down
I chased clichés with a longish rope
I only paused to tell a joke

He’s slave to stories, only old
I’m slave to tales, cold and bold
I raised the stakes in a pit of snakes
This something old; I’m in control