The Lonely Void of God

Quiet child, bearing broken wings:    
I have witnessed clouds arise  
from the ashes of your sexual awakening    
the room retching on libido
Every toilet in the place sick on the drone of machinery
 
Limbs given to embryos in their erotic festivals of Light    
  
A fist employed in boredom    
is no small measure of bravado    
  
Lost in your own terror    
You melt into the bar stool
  
Tight on your lips, tyrant energy turns inward    
so absolutely sure those figments, free and frivolous, fuck the imaginary lines    
of your body    
Like demigods drunk and delusional, devoid digging dagger deeper  
  
In bars: consonants float between vowels    
our wallets open to feed the monster in our pants    
You are better than the bubbles in your head    
You are silent in infinite jest    
  
I surrender to you, crawling through broken glass    
in my broken down imagination of    
Longing,    
but, for something with legs    
You barely move    
something for which the angles of geometry marvel    
  
Woman, commit your eyes to the blue veil
and let your mind wander within    
The forests of rot and soft cock    
 
Childhood has left us searching for the premise    
the engine choked up on so many tiny suicides    
This thing you call love is afterbirth, birth of nothing    
  
Smokestacks billow from the entirety of slumping backwards    
all the time    
Nothing deep in the lungs    
everything deep in the gut    
we need electricity in our bowels    
  
Half asleep and drunk on youth    
I imagine,    
the Human apparatus    
emerging awkwardly    
from every lonely cunt in the world