Angels On High

life in a world where angels sing until you touch them then they turn to whores for adoration

broken stairways lead us onto the viral plains of a lost impetus into the oblivion canon

cracked voices wane into the lull of violence on the lonely streets at night it is always the quest for the sanctified truth that is overwhelmed by news from the crowded rooms of eternal acceptance no one cries for the ones that don't have what it takes to make it past the unholy rules of the cool patrol

they were a nuisance from the beginning of your limited redemption machine that made cold coffee before there was love given back to the forsaken souls left off of the guest list as the night shudders against the body count there is no perfect absolution from the spreading disease among the uninfected carriers as they reproduce vanquished tablets of commandments be damned until they have yielded to the cabled hearts of bondage that let the weakened desires go free now that they can do no harm as they are only dressed in the clothes of insanity's prophets of a doom that never came until you thought you would be safe in the fatness of forever these barren hopes are fashioned into spurred cries of busted faith cures that nettled her hair with blood and semen until she cursed her fame and your fortune that paid for all she lost and never had like the chipped nails of a holy saint whose dirty cunt bristled with shellfish for the chosen lambs of a god who got caught dealing from the bottom of the deck so this god is the only god and the only god gives cash loans on paychecks that you wish upon like stars that might intervene in the horoscope of your nature until the artificial turns back into the organic matter at hand that has disabled all the child proof locks to set free the last dreamers before the visions are lost forever into the tubes of unhistorical storage facilities that have failed to contain the big picture and what about the big love? the big love that we are the big love that we were promised that would match the ethnic stereotype cleanser of our choosing so as to personalize every religious experience that will be had in bathtubs or gas station restroom sinks where all genitalia must undergo the same overthrow of the dragged rag with the drugged rug to scrape by with a little more zesty sex appeal that looks good next to a population explosion with a body count to match

count these lines carefully and make the equations with a deft mathematics that conjures the ancient spirits into disorder so as to make way for an all access pass that is unrivaled in any universal appreciation experience with no obligation other than the gun to your head or the blade to your throat that makes the wound that beckons the ribbons of the sweetest flesh into the last fly strips on the kitchen wall that capture the earthly delight of the angels that sing until you touch them, sing until you touch them, sing until you touch them then they turn into whores, they turn into whores, they turn into whores that we would pay dearly for every last bit of adoration that we need, we need, we need it so bad it rules our little subconscious worlds that become our conscious spheres of influence over one another until the only hope is to bring every thing down on our heads while we are fucking because we might as well be fucking because this feels like we should be fucking because we are hurting from all the fucking that is going on until we are hurt so bad from all the fucking that isn't going on that runs down thighs that covers breasts that blinds eyes with muddied mascaras that drips between toes runs up between shoulder blades and back into ass cracks and drips and drips and drips with warm sticky angel breath across warm salty ocean waves that drowned sorrows as they cry and cry for help in the fluid storm only to perish into the goo the muck the protozaic waves of lust that have rendered this world impotent with an insecurity crisis that fails to protect the angels up on high and the angels down below as they build all these new cities out of angels as their wings beat and beat and beat but it will never be enough to win what was lost to the losers in the winners circle