Sourceless, rythmless, heartless. I scan the desert. Since I, in my beasthood saw the dancers there. As my hands, two tiny figures, came visible, Like a carniver of flesh. A union of monstrosities. Curveless, boundless, eyeless. I flee from the source of my agony. Since I, in my beasthood, took form In new, alien anatomies. My limbs towering, mounting in celebration. Murmuring the approval of new glories; New threats, new intimacy. With this, I am fit to charm the Devil. Sneering down my pale face. I am erect with his anger and lust. I am the grace of them all. Still sneering, drooling, floating. Breeding curves of hell. And shreds of pre-human gloss. This softens those songs to dust.