Silk And Fleeces

An ever unending reminder of our imperfection

A sulking reminder of our great fall

A reminder that death is inevitable to us all

Gucci or rags

Sewn together or torn

Silk or cotton 

Doesn’t matter which form

They just remind me of how one day

I’ll loose it all 
Can I choose to go without them? 

And stand at the top of the world

Wielding my penis

A mighty weapon against all criticisms

Waiting – an idle timeserver

Till Death 💀, my master, 

Comes to release me from this cold world

With His icy cold hands

As iron sharpeneth iron

And nail removeth nail
Till then 

I’ll secretly harbour hope

That someone follows the Magnus  Opus

To forge a Philosopher’s stone.

Then, knowing death is no longer my master

I’ll descend to enjoy  these Silk and Fleeces once more



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