Cloud cloud knife

Every hero you ever wanted turns
out to have candy floss bones,

an optimum way of wriggling
out of being worthy of worship.

No one can be a visionary
missionary today, not unless

they’re a democratic masochist
too. Protection is awesome until

realising you have to leave
yourself open to the shuddering

the cracked timpani of attraction
brings: a cloud cloud knife

of an echo that sees you, claiming
this sound is knowledge is love.