Veneer of Civilization

The blade grinds against the flint of my tongue
The spark of the creature

Tell me I bear witness
To all life happening to death
The only war which can truly know me
Is a violent push caressing the animal

I compel you to yield to every soul-corrupting impulse
The alchemy of dead-sweat breaching the chalice lip
As the blade grinds against the flint of my tongue
The spark of the creature in catalyzed saliva

Gangrenous domestication pared from the skin
The ripping of the false canvas in blatant seance
To nurse a bloodlust cradled in the silk of a coffin-worm
Towers of relinquished limbs, canopy sewn in napalm
Red eyes glare in sensationless melancholy

The veneer of civilization
Mask of all crime yet to be named
A violent push for war should truly know me
I can almost taste the warmth fleeing their blood

The blade grinds
Flay your skin
Devour its fruit
Blaspheme yourself
And become god