I know your dirty little secret,
If it can even be called that,
Since you’re a piss-poor liar—
Or you just didn’t try to hide it.
And I don’t know what’s more insulting:
The act itself;
Or the implication of my stupidity,
As though I would sit with a sewn mouth
And open legs,
Acting as a husk for you to fuck
Whenever your extracurriculars grow stale,
And being the archetype of your normalcy,
The trophy of your Christian life.
But I’m not your American Dream,
Your something old
In between your somethings new,
Your somethings borrowed,
And I sure as hell won’t let you
Beat my soul into your something blue.
You’ve already taken more than you deserve,
So I won’t even give you what you’re owed;
Instead, I’ll just immortalize you
In words you can’t erase,
In sentiments you can’t vanquish,
And enchantments you can’t dispel;
My justice will be exacted
In black magick and condemnation,
And you will realize all too late
That you are accursed, exiled as you are
From the presence of God.