| "INKJET" So You'll wash your hands? Ridding it of my sin? But truly funny how my sin spreads and sticks And sticks To you My ink stains your peace Immaculate in its pristine glory Where inkjets spit and taint Holy Grounds That those like you have claimed their own That those like you have used as a hunting ground Hunting that which seems perpetually buried in ink What fun! To have The Devil cheer you on To have The Devil on your team What fun it seems To cover ink with red Smearing it on tortured bark But trees provide no leverage for me Net only snapping sticks and crushing stones God the astute brute you are! See To you the thrill tastes like salvation Providing a perverseness so sweet Grins slick with enmity For me But I fear not the chasm of you, gluttonous hunter For though your atonement in Hell's jaws Doused with ink Dethroned And mocked to nothing Does not calm my wavering essence Does not remove the crimson stains My brother now need not follow my path |