Slipping Quill

I was weaving a waking dream Walking in a utopian city of paper white My quill slipped in a sudden move The ink then made a genocide My dream now I find surrounded By dictators penis-erect in blackened cloaks And gouged-out red-eyed priests robed in white Appearing in the flesh to my right The Devil in sermon on the couch loud: “Refuge you shall take to the company of Devil In the court of men of horror and of evil”

12 Apr 2022