We’re So Pretty!
OK!
The funeral of the Antichrist was a vicious affair;
Malnourished class convicts and pale palsied wraiths,
Lashed by the discordant rash of an anorexic piper,
Cradled on the killing chords of a wailing wasteland boy.
Futureless,
The Knave of Nihilism thrashes on,
In chained leather his catatonic body,
Jerked free from wretched life,
Screams in everlasting pain;
“And we don’t care!”
Broken bottles thrown high in the air,
Children injecting; seeping urine on the stairs,
Oh Mother, hear me, hear my home,
The sound of exploding gas canisters,
And abandoned children singing;
“And we don’t care!”
