no
Gods,
you are not allowed in here –
these walls are not to be disfigured
by your muskets and cluster bombs,
and even if you were
that all-seeing judgemental eye of yours
would need to be left at the door,
scooped out of that gun turret
you keep in the center of your head,
and you’d need to wipe those feet of yours too
because the blood on your soles stink,
and while you’re at it
you’ll be asked to give your fingernails a clean
of the ribbons of flesh you have massed,
and you’ll also have to give that mouth a rinse
as we can’t understand you –
those bones and severed heads stuck in the back of your throat
make it impossible to translate what you say
..
what’s that? poor? the poor…?
no? oh, war – I should’ve fucking guessed
..
I tell you what
just…
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