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.