Sex and Murder Magazine

By Allyn “Porphyry” Garavaglia

When we were both incurably insane,
You believed that you could show me
How to be real
Afterbeen
Into the part
Of being your dreamer

Yet, there was always the god at the end of the road

Angels thatsavage messiahs--
Feathers spilt across asphalt corridors
Fulfilling time with blood
From what they had really meant to say...
Even if we still really do not understand it.

Upon that dark and glassy surface of the heavens lingers a human scent

Breathes torn pages
From the books of obdurate poets;
With sacred images of sex
And the power to feel
The presence of someone
Else inside of you

Tomorrow, some ofyou lovedlikely be found floating

Where nothing touches
More intimately than pain,
Amidst those angry toys
That logic and emotion will become,
Some hollow noise of righteousness rose
And grewtragic ghosts
That were only trying to
how to become human again

As all roads are mortal within the theater of pain.