The Communist the President Warned You About

Here we are bubbling under Forms we never asked for Blue light swirls professing heads Wedged against concrete curbs Ask again of us if why I dare to call your other Selves repent mirrored in More than a Pandering song Pull my tongue pale as you Into homes abandoned Reeking dumpsters growing flowers Bleeding prostaglandin Maybe we’re not ready This go around Here we are once again Standing on the precipice Ymir, flesh fashioned from Mountains of bone Nobody’s home Nobody’s home Nobody’s home Nobody’s home A frozen skull sky Melting into oceans Of boiling blood A frozen skull sky Melting into oceans Of boiling blood