to take this shape, imagine kneeling down
inside of yourself, forearms braced against
muddy stable floor, neck craning roofward,
straw on skin as a down of matted hair.
now offer up your pale moon of an arse
once again — you cum drenched bastard, you spare
among heirs, you piggy thing perched on elbows,
servant-king of masochism. all this
for the crumbs at the banquet of asgard,
the bin-end of affection moldering
in odin’s waterless blind-eye. he dreams
you splayed in supplication, prey’s fearful
flicker writ across your face — allfather,
please — breeds you like a bitch for a new horse.

Travesties is currently on hiatus, but there are still devils and delights to be discovered...

yr leaven me soaken, shiveren, tryen to build order thru the backstroke of time’s arrow. conversion narratives seethed my mind – testimonies, antinomies, synthesis into the herd, within thine flock. sometimes shepherds disappear in common pasture & sometimes shepherds need the comfort of the sheep.

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