Nine-Dollar Cover, Third-Circle at 3 AM

Lewd body dementia, fits and shrieks
Blacks out the detritus of untouched night sky

Your Jack Daniels speaks in tongues regardless
Stupefied prosopagnosia drags you from stranger to stranger

Sweat an impermeable glue
Between the math of pressing bodies

Third circle simony burn the feet of Seraphim
Too footsore for heels, too rough to fly

Shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, thigh to thigh
In a waste of jabbering prophets dank corners
And ichorous baptismal fonts


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