No healthy prophets encountered outside these steely inquisitor's eyes.
No men of any monotone god we could stand proud beside.
They and their gilt-riddled baubles cast onto the blazing temple pyres,
Holy whore houses proudly reduced to ashes of sweetest desecration.
Soporific spirits quaffed from dusty, sightless skulls.
Weak of will tangled in leprosy.
Spiritual sickness babbling incessantly.
Babbling Babylon put to the torch.
Felt flame broiled crook'd hands a'grasp.
Ground them to fine dust, snorted them deep.
Left coated in confusion, with my lack of sleep.
Be mindful that you are not mind.
Be mindful that heart knows how this goes.
Don't mind - never mind.
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