iF my fatHer waS a kinG theN I mighT be a liviD doG

Sanctifying comforter; brazen shall thee forever be,
secret words, narcotic in their leanings
but senseless in reality
will betray the origin of meaning;
cleanse these dirty cells in disinfected truth,
recycled instances of translucent matter
and understand, do understand,
each cog that turns does turn for thee.

All but truth does conquer, deliver;
abundantly and anally, explain the course of justice,
allow thou moments to consider
the indignity of expectant purpose;
for the processes of existence
do cast a surely blacker night -
a flaw inside the raging organ -
that might greet a man with death
than curse a twisted prince with burden.

And tremble thou, penetrate; do touch deep
paradise and future days: promise without hesitance
that both may come as cheap
as the awkwardness of reverence;
and purity, escape this place
awash the path with sanctity
and purity, consume the preying wake
expel thou notion that does breed insanity.