Understanding now this tragic nonsense
I open up the gates to the October soul
To light the candles in my Sewage Cathedral.
Left a bay behind
Yet you still, my empty sailor,
Drag along my mind Asking for yet another favor.
I dug trenches around my bloodstained fences
To see my faithful haters growl at the toll.
My favorite, indeed, this rope that tethers their soul.
Let me make you smell your lying aroma
That misled me out of my muddy churches.
It's the eve that itches me alive.
I cannot laugh when I have been drunken dry
And I cannot eat when I have rats to be fed
The charcoaled center within spills out its violent bed.
Stupidity has filled my ditches
Yet beautiful wasted words
That with needles that design intricate stitches,
Scrape against my door in fog-like herds.
Match my senses and rethink your thought
My mighty navigator that forgets he's going south,
My beaten swines, compared to you, have a smarter mouth.
Find this course that I claw myself,
Lick my flawless wounds that nurse death,
Then question where my scared angels are hiding.
By each inching hour that eats away my ignorance
And capturing each golden leaf with each rotting seed,
A strong sufferer's love is what my dying chapel needs
Great ugly illness that dreams
Within my black rusted cavity
Please stop blinding me with fetid beams.
My altar needs more than lurid activity.
Rancid clock--it's you I should hate!
This merciful month, gliding upon dead agile feet,
Will carry me away from Beauty's gorgeous deceit.
It was a selfish mile you and your ship had gone to partake of my power.
I buried you deep within my newly empty mote
To nourish the neighboring weeds you brought that has killed the last crowded flower.
- Jovan Hernandez