Searching For A Title That Embodies The Truth

Sex With Dead Metaphor Children Seems Tame,

For This Goth Queer Androgynous Industrial Youth

Licked The Assholes Of Angels That Burned In His Name...

And The Poems That He'd Written Told Of What He Became...

And So Read Here His Words Both Of Wisdom And Shame:

Crushed Velvet Dreams And Sweet Silent Nightmares

Of The Tremendous Self Loathing...Tempestuous Forboding...

That Contemptuous Foe In The Closet Of Woe That Exists In The Hidden...

That Secret Forbidden In The Part Of The Man No One Knows.

Who Asks Himself Why? Why Must He Lie? Must He Lie To Disguise Himself?

Buried Inside Himself? To Drive And Derive Himself And Always Survive...

In That Prison Of Silence...More Destructive Than Violence...Forever Tormented...

And Never Relented, Discovered, Escaped, Or Even Repented...

For He Was Dead To The World Before His Hailed Arrival...

A High Price To Pay For This Pseudo-Survival...

For Time Passes Quickly And He May Not Revive...

In Escaping From Life He's Been Buried Alive!

And His Addict Victims...The Statuesque Student,

The Soldiers...The Athletes...The Sluts Who'd Been Prudent,

Were Christened In The Advent Of Hungering Hands...

Slaves To The Horror Of Their Own Queer Demands...

Be It Couplings With Others Or With Dark Candlesticks...

Those Striplings Cursed With Impetuous Pricks...

Awash In The Fluid Of Volatile Seas...

Sucked By The Mouths Of Their Own Dread Disease...

In Square Standing Circles Of Questioned Repute...

An Intimate Transgression; They Stand Silent Tribute!

Or Sometimes Eradicated By Those

Insecure Queens With Their Murderous Hauteur -

Under The Aegis Of Out Proud Gay Power.

With Their Treacherous Lust...That Indomitable Proclivity...

That Lascivious Struggle In Their Darkest Hour.

That Blending Reflection...Macabre With Decay...

That Armorous Triumph At Their Last Soiree...

Beguiling Of Dangerous Beautiful Day Dreams...

The Dark Nether Regions Of Sonic God Screams...

Together They Frolic With The Violence Of Children -

In Passion Suck Lust Fuck Anger Black Trust

Bright Danger Damnation Orgasm Salvation!

And Every Last Drop Of Their Little Deaths -

Ejaculates And Paints Their Sweat Stenched,

Rainbow Stained...Tear Drop Drenched

Vain Glorious Empire In Virtuous Corruption...

That Infamous Residue Of Flamboyant Martyrdom -

A Valid Erruption...Symbolic Deconstruction,

The Last Final Flash For Their Need/Want Destruction!

And There On The Chest Of The Cynic's Capricious Paramour,

On The Moisture Flecked Circumspect Flesh Of His Whore,

"Love" Is Scrawled Center Of Smart Broken Hearted Art,

A Symbol For All That His World Ripped Apart,

A Heart Of Sperm Sorrow And Blood Mixed With Tears...

An Appropriate Elegy To What I Learned In Those Years.