Among the Falling Stones - Ophis

Crawl — among the locusts and worms

And sing their masochistic hymns

Fall — of the morals within

A poetry of mockery

Grave — sonnets of sarcastic eloquence

Too light to sink

Grim and empty extasy

The suffocating empathy

Put a price on sacred thoughts

Feast on feces on a silver plate

You wish for pain

But you are numb

And so you feed your children

To those without a soul

You wallow in their puke

Dung beetles in spider webs

I feel like a feather

Among the falling stones

And thus essence flows

Down — into the sewers

A breed so acyetic

Pigs — that swallow all

Cast me out

Out of life

Life that means

«Meaningless»

Emptiness to compensate

Bile sludge to masticate

An entire cutural history