Little Miss Passion Flower
She was once the chlorophyll of my skin.
The tingling sunlight flowing within.
But little miss passion flower couldn’t reproduce.
So the rubber hand of God cut her ass loose.
I spilled my seed inside her dead stem.
She decayed and became the weeds of this garden.
Now she’s every where and she will not die.
A cancer that infects our water supply.
Mister mantis prays with his blades for her soul.
He claims he knows about God and the Holy Goat.
He said that we would be eaten on the seventh day.
And the lucky ones saved for a bouquet.
The earthworms believe there's a flower bed up in the sky.
Free of leaf-eaters and pesticides.
Free of winged demons and God’s rubbery hand.
A place where little miss passion flower can grow
once again.
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