truths are uttered in tongues.
murmurs of a named fear
holiday and his gunmen,
puppets, witches, 
and lust assumptions.
so,
if all dogs go to hell,
please,
just put me down.
slow burn, down your throat
searing hearts, flesh evoked
infidel wives, inflamed and widowed 
self provoked (enlisted). 


and
you cannot tell 
me
how much I 
die
for your hand.
(inverse?)
irrelevant.


and it turns out, 
all the lovers just act like sadists
all the pious act like rapists (?)
all the devils act like saints
and you and I
fuck with fate