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the blue world, a saintly whore

the blue world
she is a saintly whore
back to collect her reward
she’s coming
to get her money back
the world is an easy score
and it’s our train that’s off the track

crashing through villages of sleeping idols
ripping them from the breathers
and returning the soul to ghost
the steam engine plows forward
with many a whore singing wildly
whistling for the dogs
to come and eat the little remnants
that their hunger left intact

the yellow water and black ditch
muck up the place
and smell of dirty shirts
the bones of fish
there stands god
with the conductors hat
smiling with golden teeth
as he collects his fares
the riders exit
into the smoke covered streets

the blue world, a saintly whore

Jason Franklin

Springboro, United States

  • Artist
    Notes
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desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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