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Michael McGuire
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Eve 1
A garden of noise built from her waste,
A meal for the market of synchronized taste,
Hear the silent sex of a high-heeled-hertz,
The way the new born buyers apathy flirts,
Retro-morals lead to the soul of the seed,
And the gospel of doubt will do the deed, Hereditary graves await her grace,
Makeup for the mystery of her see thru face, There is a go from the dead end of every direction,
A race for the fake orgasm of her affection, Imagination is the flavor of her lips,
Quotable policy and desperate hips,
A believer in the circuit-church of the fuse,
A turnkey system for an automated muse,
Love is a placebo given to the poor,
Truth is a cathedral without a door.
She moves within the matrix,
She will become your dominatrix,
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The parameters of her passion,
Will dictate the schism's fashion,
A riot whispered; incognito,
The ambiguous ache of a libido,
The poison that hosts the cancer's cure,
How to cleanse yourself to make your fossil's pure.
Her body a boneless shadow,
Day dreaming in real time,
Hijacked Heaven on the wings of money,
Burning questions fueled by libraries,
Innocent actor; stubborn tragedy,
Junkies of need find the luxury tolerance,
And pay the difference in stillborn worlds, Connection feeds the pilot's sky.
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