A wound
gaping
with bone
exposed
come for one last kiss
And . . .
to throw dirt
The black moon that shines shadows has confused us all
They have changed the channel
. . . on us
The ancient ceremony
The skull and blade
The disco ball
The strobe light
The cover charge
ceremony of demands
prayers of the spoiled
television and the temple
god and Hollywood
We curse our love
our hypnotizer
our sex
We bow before bottles
fill the vessel with water, plant, flame
And burn
We need nothing but needles
We are spoon-fed
Comatose we contemplate
The static buzz buzz buzz
Change the channel on them
Or is it
too late?