When we finally sleep,
The carnival will come.
Wind will strip dye from our gowns,
The corn will grow wild,
And the carnival will come.
With clowns of crows
And circus masters made of stone,
The tigers will come that night.
With teeth made of fire
Breath of lava
Claws of burning glass
And the colors-
By god , the colors.
The neon frogs will scream and shit
on what once were churches
elephants will topple monuments
Cockroaches will feast and laugh at our decay
chickens will lay eggs in our hair
Vultures will eat off our fingernails like corn chips
And feral dogs will fuck on our graves.
That bacchanal. That fate which we await.
O holy night,
The night of the carnival.