The men who shaped men's minds

When I lay in bed at night I thrutch with mortal dread.
Every elastic lashing of flesh,
Every surge of blood,
Every beat of my ageing heart is my dread.
A presence devoid of God.
A presence powered only by an immense presence of electricity
In my flesh,
In my head.
When I lay in bed at night I thrutch with mortal dread.
A presence devoid of God
Is dead.