Concubines of Venezuela

The ocean winds,
As they blast across the shore
Where we lie,
Soaking up the sun;

Amidst the cacophony
Of a thousand floundering fish,
All salted by the sea.

Love comes to me in waves,
Orgasmic entities feeding off
Seagull droppings,

There is no lost beatitude here,
Among the ceaseless crashing;
Simply cluttered beaches
Breasts exposed to heaven,

And a long monotonous simplex
Of screaming saints impaled on spikes,
As the ships of Satan’s seamen
Sail off towards Newfoundland.

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