Flyblown prince of spoiled flesh


Tonight he is a red wrath
A flurry of bolt cutters spit out the canvas
Butcher Hydra
Hivemind Omega


Fleshbound buzzing rapture


By the humming moss the haze is drawn in
Here the waters recede
Here the reeds bow
Trail of scattered voices mouthed through grasses
Beading the rind and tripping the barkland


Just now he's a myth-maker
Grey man, this one, with a skull hot-crushed with cannibals
Sends images of dying girls
Runaways runaways
Are you lost, Alice? Are you alone?
He can peel the fear off your skin and carve his real name on your bones
He'll hold you and return to you before the purchase runs
And plant you in the fucking earth with all the other ones
Bleeder of cherry red blooms
Bloater of grey and blue moons


Oh bereaver, you should see her
Beheld as one - a patchwork madonna
All paper cuts and whipping knots
Drawn apart, drawn apart
Am I sick, sister? Am I complete?
His eyeballs are a ladder down above a swinging street
And, all around, the air has stuck and all the song departs
He wraps a rolling hive around the lightly beating hearts


Flyblown beast of carrion
Flesh-wound vermian priest


Delight in Disgust
Revulsion in Lust
By then he's a rumour, consuming,
A white cloud of tumours in bloom in the husk
Pupating in crust
He's fawning, his fabrics are
Fallen to dust
Its peel is unwinding
His core is a writhing assembly of
Wormlike divinements and pus
His mind is untimely
A nova
Of stings
And of stomas delivered
By hags in the crush


Flyblown prince
Buzzing rapture