The tree sags to the whisper of the eye which whispers the mouth, offense, fault, simple secret. advanced like a flood of methane. Reddening my gangrene from head to toe, I ooze, I bleed, for you my human race which has fallen asleep in the corner of the world. Unclean is the reflection of sin that is too heavy to bear, so I carry it. I am the chosen child, conquered, born on his promised land subjected to my whip which lacerates the lost flesh having turned away from the right path which is mine. Do you want to hear me moan again

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