Stoned Angels sing Stoned Hymns

Ghoorgie!!

stoned again and sucking on shit, the broken hymns of the Heavenly Hosts did engulf me as they sang praises to our fall into idealized savagery in our battle against the forces of moral relativism; and in the spinning light I saw the incinerated face of a toddler raised up on high as a symbol of Columbia’s loving wrath while the Heavenly Hosts sung praises to the child’s raped and broken mother, praising her as our Virgin of Freedom while Virtue’s phosphorescent torch shone its glory on the mass graves and blood-begrimed prison cells; and the Heavenly Hosts proclaimed napalm empire’s Viagra without which its flaccidity would cower behind its alabaster codpiece; and the furred angels sang and enfolded me in their wings that reeked of the rotted dead and the acrid stench of rubble shattered and turned to dust as the angels rose heavenward singing your name and praising you as the Burning Bush that would spread its flame over the face of the earth even as they granted you remission of your sins through the intercession of Shock and Awe…


and I slept the sleep of the brain dead

…or whatever.

…i