LIQUORICE WHIPS

Hand in hand

I walk with God

Her face like mine

But voice rough like the grain

Through which we trudge,

 

Blasphemous the mask

She makes me wear;

Jagged holes cut out roughly

To leave me bare,

 

She doesn’t mind that

They stare

At the ravenous madness

She portrays

And which they follow

Just to claim they breed love

From the fear they’ve shed,

 

We once strode

Through beams of light

But have learned to avoid

Them

For fear of revealing

The shaded tunnels

Welted into our eyes

And the shredded edges

Of swollen flesh

The celebration of which once

Banned us

To the gates of

Hell.

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