And in my cracked skull there lie

the remains, crushed wings, glitter

made from the lazy bodies of insects

too weak to run

The sun shines from between their segmented legs

They are the ladies waiting to be saved

from the darkness they pretend. 

Black shoe, they stick their raw heads in electric ovens

burning off their dignity

asses in the air 

the landscape gone to seed

long ago

no reason to tend the gardens

where they grow their worthless worth. 

Inside their battered cages, they chant

power and redemption, crawling

headless mindless

soul

less

through the shit.