The Grace of Misconception

your eyes tell a harlequin array of bold-faced lies

so warm and content in the webs that you spun for them

mouth with mesmerizing voice behind it

hands, expressive gestures

expressing nothing.

clasp onto your reverberating all of you,

built up from the zero you catalyze in the lives of us

you became the whoremonger and whore, the patient and the disease, diseased.

whose heart's head hangs dessicated and mute from the mane of your steed?

feed off the land, the filth of the land, the leader's self-absorbed hand.

paint me a picture of your integrity.

and i shall watch it burn.