So upright we became, so fast, fearing a brisk damnation.
Crawling on all fours, fleeing such picaresque damnation.
Let’s make the chaos order and call it proper, cloaking
ignorance with fear. With the right tools, we’ll whisk damnation.
Collaring mystery by its scruff, pinching and shushing
it into ramrod pews. There’s your Kafkaesque damnation.
Allah, Buddha, Shiva, Zeus. Bolting multipronged wise guy
or bearded Jew so nailed, let’s plan not to risk damnation.
Choking on ruined fruit, we fall from our crib in the trees. Fuck.
Now comes immaculate suffering of slipped disc damnation.
A hypodermic steeple to puncture heaven’s cloud. Hell
hath no fury. Who goes there? A narc to frisk damnation.
Discipline. Disciples. A certain squaring of accounts.
The ultimate inside job. Don’t dare tsk-tsk damnation.