By Marko Vesin
i sat there, watching
her dance
her shine
her kill
her cum
her become
beauty looms over our hearts
death shines from within
fixed
manageable
the lights of the cop car / television static
the scent of her perfume / blood smears the screen
the feeling of completion / hip bones and cigarettes
infinite rose / this is what you paid for
pray for us / we want it
ineffable virgin / the all-american spectacle
echo our sorrows / kill it, man, kill it
The gods of fortune
lay raped on a bed of roses
