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THE RINGING INDICTMENT SERIES: A MAD KILLER'S BANKRUPT IDEOLOGY Your battery acid tongue Dissolves hammer, anvil and stirrup In a wash of cancerous suds: "No wonder I'm all frigged up." One steel-wool touch Would have the Fake Eyebrow Lady at Bloomingdale's makeup counter Positively retching. I fly with hot leather wings To find you've already Wriggled free of your perfect skin: Bitch. Sweetheart! Satan loves you More than you know. Give him but a lavender-scented chance - You will believe. Concrete jailhouse walls speak their unjust longings, Garroted echoes of hard-timers. "Tough shit," as they say in Toledo. ¡Ay, son las cosas de la vida! "I am Jesus Christ!" Quoth the mental case Who took a mallet to the Pieta. Asshole. Dime-store crucifix Around a green-ringed neck Flakes Cheap gold leaf. |