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  • KC "Lokahjarta" Wyatt

God of Masks & Many-Formed

O god of masks

and many-formed,

I would know you anywhere.

Salivating, starving, I follow your scent And the feathers that fall from your foreshadowing wings Dripping like dew drops from that comet-stained coat By which to find your flitting facades.

O god of masks

and many-formed,

I am lost without you.

Lost in the verses, Lost in the meters, Lost in the streets with a 13th beer Wandering wild, Wandering sick, Inner voice screaming, "Heal Thyself, Witch."

Sick with the sorrow

Sick with the tears

Come down from the mount, God, I know you can hear.

O god of masks

and many-formed,

Fuck you Come home.


A Southwestern cowboy poet Loke

an moonlighting as a high femme goth. Genderqueer and weird - here's our next performer: KC Wyatt.


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