He choked at the fishbone market
and froze up the watering place.
His lies were little lessons,
terribly unscientific but frighteningly real.
Sputtering vile mare’s nest!
He sank in his own filthy dreams,
reeking of incense and hollandaise,
his prophesies chipped and unfixed.
He left enough masks behind
to play out the fabrication,
and a suicide note
that turned out to be the bible.