a snippet gospel of rage [dt dark in priests]

and he whispered:
`do not go gentle into that good night’
against this bodice that lies
feral & fetal`d
during his enchant`ed h-ours
of purgatory;
 
and he whispered:
`old age should burn and rave at close of day`
for at a quarter to meia`s-noite
skeletina bones in cath`olic girl ruins
break de`lovely from my flesh
for his breath is that of godly pigs
departing toward the gates
of epic slaughter:
 
and lastly, he whispered:
`rage,
 
                     R A G E   against
 
     the dying of the light`
for unconsciously, I have ascended
descended consented
to the viral die~mensions
of priest`s dementia 
where darkened silhouettes emulate
and emerge from the leviathans
little box of gospels
sheltering these scarlet fractures…
cummunal sobrieties often
in the mimics of human dogs
have hinged these breasts
trauma bound shackled
guffaw is the nickelodeon trinkets
it`s masterpiece hooked and hinged 
my pungent floral, detached from reality…
nothing gentle into that good night