shame song

we found an orbital portal. crossing over, we went into a dream, and awoke? on a breast near a nipple under a sun. we call it earth. on the outside chance of something breathing in the rubble, we ate of its silent and frosted nipple, and felt it swell with us. ashamed of our dependence, we basked in our dependence. children are often baskedly ashamed.

now i sit in a room somewhere. this is where summer and christmas holiday bring guilt with a snow cone or wreath when it is sure there are children starving. it is clear that no happiness can thrive. you see, there are children starving.

nonetheless, we strive. nonetheless, they starve. as macy's sparkles from the stardust of our willful neglect, gaudy and statuesque, blood on its jagged melodies, as around and round the whole parade twirls, with blood splatter. you can detect a glee from the audience.

it is all visceral, the moses tooth word. the openings are through sinew. the massive caves of riches are inside of tooth, of gut.

yes, in our teeth are still held the choice we made, hanging as we were in between, to become bashful inhabitants of shiny pale skin. we ate from the trough and were there adorned, by snake incantation. in this or any other year of our lord,
we eat of it. if we did not, we are figments. we ate of it.

tho made in the shadows of reflections, we ate of it. tho made before our decisions, we hungrily gobbled and in this taste was a covenant. yes we, of the purple drama, ate golden braids of it and we were consecrated in its songs.

of all the masquerades, let it be known that we, of the quickening, were there and covered our eyes when the girls and children were lain down to be made mothers and comrades, as it was written.

and we ache. calling for the song that sent us here, the object of a chant, the subject of a calling forth. and the band played on.