Watch the glass shards
within blood coursing rivers
through arteries
shattering and imploding.
The innocence sold
for a glimpse of the afterlife.
Plastic voodoo people are shot down
by St. Peter’s goon squad,
shoot first
and ask for forgiveness
afterwards.
The streets are over-run by rejects
that were kicked out of paradise.
Paper thin people
crying from the steps of the Pearly Gates;
their
eye’s leaking sacred fluids
that can be injected
by
eyeless junkies to get a quick fix.
There is an onion skin girl-puppet
caressing the cuts on her legs;
inserting vials of poison in the wounds.
They’ll
bring a good price
from the surgeon.
The
money will buy her a ticket
out
of town before anyone realizes
how much poison is missing.
The air swells from the screams
as the shootings cut down the junkies supply.
Paper
thin corpses blowing in the wind,
collecting
at the feet
of prosthetic angels.
