March to

by jerrontables

Then I am man,
I whore my head,
Because my whim
Goes there instead.
My bastard buds,
This molded bread,
I bake forsaken
Deaf of dead.

Who goes the wretch?
This la la la!
Spore sores undressed and
Rah rah rah!
Lost trails of blood,
One last hurrah
Spread wings of meated birds