Misanthropocene

Far too close
My word is word again
Stitch the virgin
To my lattices

Far too close
My word is word again
Mercy come
I’m never cured again
Yawning come
I’m never bored again

They curse like a fool to me
They curse like a fool

And I detest all you
And I taste of you
And I taste of you
Even inside me

I see...
It has always owed me
A nice one
A nice one
A nice world