We're asexual beings/ shrouded in sexual outfits/
our stimuli form a Rhino Deity/ and his Temple is our climax
Masquerade of whims/ self-idolation as a remedy/
rape is another form of art/ when used against the memory/ of your dead echo of respect
Holy Carcass/ once full of life/ now bees in Her Womb
and Her body a temple/
Her vagina, a honey-producing trumpet of the Apocalypse
and I'm Her Jericho/ to watch me tremble and fall/ in front of Her
and smile till the end/ with a wound in my chest
As if I'm stabbed/ from the Horn/ of my Rhino Deity
To learn to respect/ what chews my inner self with canines of saphyre/
is to accept/ that I never loved anything/ except my inability to caress my faults
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