He Is Here, He Is Not Afraid

We move by instinct, darling
Let our hands be hatchets, let us
Wander blindly, swinging madly
In a forest made of flesh
We move by instinct, darling
Let our eyes like lepers drive
The doubters from our homes, and
Into the bottom of the sea
And we move by instinct, darling
Let our smoke stitch pictures, let us
Twist in patterns, dull the horror
Of a city still on fire
For we are like medics handling
Suicide by cyanide with
Bleeding fingers. Let us suffer
Completely inadequate
We move like lovers, darling
Let me run my fingers down your side
And kiss you right below the eye
We sleep with shadows but we
Never give them bread. Oh horror
Dress yourself in shame, or I will
Tear a hole in you, you harlot
Burn your eyes, I'll hold your white-washed
Bones unto the sky and scream
"Oh, God, if you are there, I hold this
Body to your judgment, and give it
Your wrath or your mercy
But please pick wrath
Please pick wrath
Please pick."