A filthy crystal
a tired feather,
a cherry bat
screeching and trapped.
Weeved together we are,
in a spider's web
she tastes the lead, its bitter.
The tiny peices of razor sharp glitter
wash through my eyes
slicing and peeling tissues of disgusting lies
Her plastic jesus means nothing to us
bendable nazareth quakes through us
bloody thorns fill your hands,
from removing each one from my head, my land
we stretch silently
across this place
it's no longer jesus' space.