Blame Me, Abel

I can never go home-

doomed to walk the world alone,

and When in Rome

I Promise every plundered

sick senate sundered


gold glistened fever

to become a believer.

I say

"Way hey,

If you pray-

blow the false idols away-

if you cast aside skeptical scrutiny

for candy Cain mutiny

and blame sin

when you cannot win

then my little pigs will let you in."

And I watch the night's certain

closed casket funeral curtain

cloak kings and queens

and shadow us in dreams'

infinite tsukiyomi

where at last no one knows me

stripping my bitter bacteriophage

from every Alexandrian page.

I don't want to wake up

I don't want reason

like every exposed season

to turn an unclean

Petrarchian jelly bean green

and bring forth from the dark

the true covenant ark

-the lucid nightmares

of gummi light bears.