canislupusaeterna

There she is turning her face from the camera Just a moment before the shutter Shudders But resists the urgent pressure from Thought She manages to angle away Angels she prays But angelic prey she is instead of answered prayers She is answers to the ravenous madness Of the Holy Host The Holy Ghost Has scissors for trimming perfect nooses that would make a hangman cry I spell this out To live. A day To die or shout There is no. Why There is only do. As I As she The automated self-indulgent crushed among divine cigarettes She is the year for drinking beer And toasting the apocalypse But come. And go The angels know that when the dog is