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Mein Kampf ist wie ein Fluss

We drift in an axial current
Lined on all vertices
With the clavicles and ulnae
Of those who tore themselves apart,
The struggling artist, Adolf Hitler,
Now a speed that splintered every thought
Of those straining to bleed, spraining
In worship, a fall beyond the hinges of the jaw,
The ever mashing Mandible of Purity
The seething murderer, the conquering Führer,
Now a fury blur of complex math
And broken mirrors in place of molars,
All teary forms of wellborn hate, devotion
Now emptying into the deepening cavern,
Bellowing cavity of sea green indecency -
Brittan, blitzkrieg, U-boats, leached through,
We are the barriers and passages in this flow
Obscure as of late, as a map is untrue

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Mein Kampf ist wie ein Fluss by 


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