So draw yourself a grid
Like a geographical battleships.
Now take a guess
I promise you the truth
If that’s what you require.
You hate me but you need me too,
You can’t destroy me or the mystery can’t be solved.
There?
Nothing there I’m afraid,
Just rocks and undisturbed dirt.
Virgin soil not your virgin child
Virgin soil not your virgin child.

Perhaps you should leave
Consult your psychic
Take out your spade and dig?
Maybe a year…
Maybe five years, you’ll hit a bone
Frantically throw the earth
Until you unveil the truth.
Look into the sunken sockets
Brush away the dirt
Alas, poor Unnamed
We both loved him
Just our way was literal.
Painful and eternal
We’ll add your broken heart to the haul.
I’ll laugh as the prison lights click off
Unaware of the razored toothbrush at my throat.

Is that justice, child?
Is that justice, child?
Is that justice, child?

The ultimate irony,
Final fame is mine.
My face adorns the covers
Your boy is on page 26
Between the racing and the porno lines.
Between the racing and the porno lines.

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