Jesus Fucking Christ

I saw the cross raised above the horizon.

Rags of thoughtless bones slumped against the mounds were easily remembered and drawn by thoughtless drones.

Christ; every day, every fucking way and every fucking way the thieves seek salvation.

And the Bishops stare with greedy recognition of expectation.

Doomed; the feasting viewers unknown to their fate amongst thieves and rags and the corpse on the mound.

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