declare an imaginary war

in the name of battle
start a war
bullet-hole your psyche
and get a scar--

you'll go far
on foot and your
purple heart will
beat you through

contempt grew
as though it was
unsinkable;
the dreadnaught

midday stains your skin hot
and you burn through the front line
stop signs
prostrate, on the floor

Janus knocks on closed doors
able bodied
fifteen or sixteen
(year old)naked corpses strewn

at afternoon
the light is blush
pink hearts inside
of rotten fruits

barren roots
inside of you,
dry sand soil;
rainless drought

we are born with inner doubt
and we are singed from within
the original sin--
roman catholicism loves Satan