Mouth

You have my wrath, my love
one from each of my gaping mouths;
the one singing praises
the other blasphemous songs.
You are half the man I am
and He the half that will live
given over to a slavering suicide
that rends soul from the skin.

So you have my love, my wrath
from both my sleeping and my waking life;
the one I am is no longer what was
as dawn pounds on man’s midnight
while I fight with your strongest war
and let the venom burn like fire
till the voice shall sing aright.

So you have the love, my wrath
that shall leave me completely crushed
like tongues torn from rebels mouths
when the conqueror finally comes.