No body can strap body parts together as he can.
He is a reward-drawer who believes in smart-trams
and draws you spam-maps.
He fools you into straw-eating warts and when you scream
for more he is the one who brings you plate after plate of more
erecting with his left hand columns, castles.
He knits and stinks and peels sleep off you
when you need it the most. A pubic hair falls
off his finger and starts its fight with feathers.
He is a redivider, a petrifier and he speaks backwards.
But maybe one day we will see through and sum up:
The devil lived in a doomed mood
That we can do without. We fooled him
with sensuousnes(s) or stayed forever quiet.
Anger? ’tis safe never. Bar it! Use love
(or: Evoles ut ira breve nefas sit; regna
Which means more or less the same).