Neither twine nor rope nor Holy Ghost
Could bind this man to the mortal coil
Yet with mirth and dust and processed meats
A feast lay there before him

"This is evangelical", he said
He gandered to the right and to the left
Tactile affirmations and obsessive observations
And need i even mention such impressive desecrations

I am the city of dust
I am the cold dark place
I am the half dead flesh that needs no sleep
The pregnant pause
The sound unsung
The gut cut up
The gut cut up in real time
So, will you be mine