Westwind

This Sinner Man

Emilio Aldrich

slow stinking ooze,

All that’s holy in His ruse,

His boiling cross called love

Could never prove his heat for me.

 

Lift me up to lick my good lord’s lips

And I’ll show you a mouth dripping from the bone.

Water leaking, amber tones from his rock

Baptized once twice thrice, in his love.

 

That holy ooze which never could prove

his love.

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