Faust's Manifesto
This is my bleach; the cantankerous passport, a sluice for man,
walking misty for me, and I am stripped neat and simple, a white army
for Pan to stencil with vice. I speak with locks, protecting the chasm
of mind and heart, a labyrinth of maggots vexed with fool’s gold, and I court
the jinx like I am an alien.
My platitude fists meat like bricks and water haloes my tongue dense,
and should you wish to pollute, I am most human: Your favourite chess.
Beauty, Mirth and Love supposes a merciful converse between you
and the shape of my spine, and if that heaven you so spitefully tempt
exists beyond celebration,
I am yours, rendered definite and complete,
saluting intervention.
