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“God’s cock!” you nickered, bound, blindfolded. Once
you were sure about sin. ––Lust’s rage. ––Sublime’s

power. ––Once you saw your god’s indifference
as love. Each plague must be signs of End Times.

Sin must be punished. Now you quake: the sting
of whip, scent of hot wax. Now you’re unsure.

You’ve been wrong before; can’t see me scowling
when you called me angel-headed hipster.

“4 face’d, 6 wing’d & full of eyes within”?
Only Eldritch horror looks like white dudes

with wings, not Seraph. All the angelic
orders are forged in malice, old-school sin.

Speak of what we know. I offer my nudes
and trust, cum and soul. I say: take your prick.