My name is Destroy

My name is Destroy
yet I am inert
I was butchered
by an angel with wings
of blue pearl and honeydew
and now my body is inchoate

"Get out of my space"
the angel sang
but this was the
Hand and Two Sceptres
in East Dulwich
on a Saturday night,
the saloon bar
was a seething caldron of
contorted proboscis and antennae
thrusting
and sucking
and snorting
from endless flaggons
of cellular gruel
there was
just
no other space
but his

"I am going to fuck you up"
chanted the angel
setting down his half supped pint
his wings
coruscating in the firmament,
their gossamer tips brushing against the door
to the women's toilet

I wove my fingers
into the shape
of a prayer
of supplication
but his pursuit of vengeance was
indefatigable
my body
a million juddering spurs
of bone and spaghetti
was crushed
against the
Star Wars themed fruit machine
with pernicious wrath

"Help me" I beseeched
the seething invertebrates
who had been
shovelled into drifts
9 metres deep
by the bar
"redeem me"
I begged the angel
as my spine
made a sound
like the first breath
of a new born calf
and I slid to the floor

I lay
on the sick slick carpet
sole witness
to my
apotheosis
truly aware
for the first time
of the arrogance
of my faith
in my own
immortality