Sit for the paraplegic’s dance-off,
and applaud the handless acrobats
setting fire to their lost limbs.
Watch as the blind fortune-tellers
read your palm and foretell your death.
Listen to the voiceless, choked by cancer,
sing the most beautiful of hymns.
Look in the mirror and gaze on your bodies,
altars to unknown Gods.

A man, bruised and lost,
had his soul fought over by God and Satan.
Months went by and the body count rose
until God declared Himself the victor.
Two days later, the man killed another
before killing himself as a coward.
A paradox unfolded itself;
Which of the twain was God?

Listen to the silence as the deaf child cries
and wipes his nose on his sleeve.
Feel the dead woman’s pulse
as the butcher cleaves her meat from her.
The guardian is at the table
to make sure everyone gets their share.
As a clock chimes once,
porous walls let in a rush of water
and thirsty patrons drown a sad death.
They float to the top beneath the ceiling mirror,
altars to unknown Gods.
Last edited by Dæmönika at Jul 26, 2010,