Saint Totem made the trumpet. His face bed opium smeared from loads of strip shows. Keeps the new day Goddess of the Shelter sink beneath the lake for two months. Saint Totem raises the trumpet to his opium tar coated lips. They go shitting in the stream. Turds curled into words, floating memes. Saint Totem makes snow crackle out of his skin. An expressive storm from his blue epidermis goes. He lives in a box and short are his locks. He has a boy for a hand and a hook for a wife.