Cult Of Fancy Suffering

Raise and plant my hanging cross
Tie me to it in my wine-red robe
Time to profit from agony
Which face shall I put on

A “For Sale” face of childhood anguish
A “For Lease” face of monstrous trauma
A “For Rent” face of intermittent sting
A “Discount” face of disrepair

It does not matter which of those I choose
Each says it’s time to dance for my hunger
You don’t need to believe anything you see
There’s nothing to it except what you observe

A man dancing for you while telling a bleak tale
Mid-air maneuvers to illustrate and enlighten
I’m just one of thousands joined in this frenzy
All of us mad jerking in a cult of fancy suffering