Where the pornography falls flat,
My only distances from you
Speak out the volume of my descent.
A Ministry of imaginative declaration,
Patches torn from jeans,
And in death, resuscitation.
The resurrection of my dream,
False prophets and scornful eyes
Speak softly to proclaim the mysteries
Of some iridescent Caligula.
My hopes are my own boundary line,
Wear faith issues out of my vagina,
To cleanse this sea,
And proclaim the end of dreams.