The dome atop a movie screen with walls made out of plasticine,
The range, it spreads out seventeen by thirty-six by twenty-four.
Go past the hole where infants fuck, where gamblers slice their thumbs for luck.
The quicksand where your soul is stuck and burdened with an endless chore.
The archways ‘tween the citadels where devils want to kiss and tell
Of liaisons with infidels with sucubi and demon whores.
Where giant flies and sewer rats ascend the highest ziggurat
And gather round a paper hat. Who is it they’re waiting for?

And ripples from the lake of shit bely the essence of the pit.
A tall man creeps out from the slit that’s made upon the surface.
The noses of the devils twitch and every gnome, imp, sprite and witch
And every pregnant hellhound bitch is getting very nervous.
Every creature then miscarries newborn babies maimed by fairies.
Foetus heads that look like cherries gathered for the service.
Music of ten thousand screeches. Pastor of the temple preaches.
Voice from up on high beseeches those of us who don’t deserve this.

But we don’t care because we’re deaf. We’ll eat ourselves till all that’s left
Is the space between the cleft of our collective buttocks.
And from our ghosts a fecal shower gives the tall man greater power.
Blooming like a putrid flower from a universal suffix.
Tall man flies on wings of cardboard, grinning with resolve and ardor
Reading from unholy charters causing throngs of piercing ruckus.
What a sound! This piercing noise! The voice molesting little boys
And slightly older girls with toys, collecting menses in a bucket.

On headless goats and pigeon-worms and bathed in black, corrosive sperm,
The pregnant hellhounds come to term and birth a loaf of maggots.
Larva twist and then transform into a giant plague-like swark
Of moths that smell like chloroform and fetid insect haggis.
Carnegie and J.P. Morgan drape themselves with human organs
Brush their teeth with neon sorghum and debate on what to brag is.
Hitler sodomizes Pol Pot sucking off a Stalin Robot
Wearing pink and purple culottes, burning with the other faggots.

Smoke that rises from the sinners. Carbon culled from TV dinners.
Tall man smiles, as he gets thinner shitting all his innards out.
Letting blackness fill his lungs sticky compounds that had clung
To the ribs of demon young enhance the volume of his shout.
The tall man speeds into his sanctum. Flies and rats proceed to thank him
As if to reassure his rank inside the world of Satan’s mouth.
The tall man dons his paper hat atop the highest ziggurat and smokes another cigarette. He should have never left the south.