This Organ’s for Grinding

So slippery hermeneutics ticks a squad,
Makes me miserable and infirm like
Taco juice and squid, like embalming
Fluid used for rafter lubricants. Tuesdays
After the hangings we meet for margaritas
And toast the paradigm to a clean victory.
Streamers investigate their inheritance:
A will makes a body out of thin air, I watched.
Then I invested my money in its godless
Body, which does not die. That didn’t last.
Now I’m yoked to a conquest which is
An experiment in stinging. I’m in a cage
Of mosquitoes to see if I’ll grow a proboscis.