Evocative transposition of cords,
With a hint of methodology;
Broken open and bleeding,
Staining the carpet where you lay.
Dressed for a funeral on the 4th of July,
Hands raised to heaven,
Conjuring the demons of your past;
A forked tongue,
Sliding words along the sharp points,
Those disgusting deceptions
Which place at point chartreuse
A Melancholy laughter
And strange lies,
Protruding from beneath,
Satan’s insipid derangement
Of the truth.