I sit as an abscess on the skin of the univese
This is the alabaster mold / the shape I want to preserve
don’t tell me that it’s necessary - even when I subvert the
cross I’m still bound by destiny and finalities.
The wounds on my skin won’t heal.
They won’t peel away.
I want them torn and sewn up.
He’s come to steal my eyes.
My mouth is sealed with ash. My back scrapes the sky.
This scar won’t peel away. My mark.
My split in the fold of time.
This scar won’t heal.
I sit as a blemish on the skin of your fucked up findings.
This scar won’t heal, split in the fold of time.

Stars rot in the sky.
Rivers are empty.
Their beds have dried to dust.
split with everything across space.
And upon this breath - I inhale the sun.
I am all matter and I am all energy.
It brings me no peace. I can’t stand this heat.
I can’t feel my mind.
I am blind with no sun.
I am burned with no light.
I am denied life.
I am pathetic, like all things.
I am ending.
I am denied my three days removed from the cross.
My wounds fester and change.
My scar has scabbed and peeled away.

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