Let God Be Some Tribal Female Who

And The Aura Of You Remains, Remains, Remains...

Even Without Wars, Life Is Dangerous.

I Have A Black Look I Do Not Like. It Is A Mask I Try On. I Migrate Toward It And Its Frog Sits On My Lips And Defecates.

Inside Many Of Us Is A Small Old Man Who Wants To Get Out.

Maybe, Although My Heart Is A Kitten Of Butter, I Am Blowing It Up Like A Zeppelin.