Variation V: Rosary of Graves

Many a-times

the flesh wounded beyond repair

to satisfy the hunger

of countless

lustful mouths.

I, the

resu

rrec

tor.

I, the

bro

ken

lip

Do you remember me?

I don´t.

A silhoutte of what the body was

remains in your bedsheet

a nail

clings to your back

like the stump of an amputated wing.

I,the

god

less

me

ssi

ah.

I, the

rest

less

desire.

My skin clung to a faceless torso

a mash of breasts and bones

that spun between my hands

I sunk myself into its spirals

woke up shattered

a distorted soul

entranced by the whispers

of a death turned painless by deceit.

I, the

after

taste

of

semen

in

your

mouth.

I, the 

halo

of

vo

mit

in

your

soul.

How many times must I lie

in this foul soil

before I can be collected

and put into a tiny jar

to be displayed in the windows

of a museum of oddities

that makes children cry

and women puke?

Who must I hurt

what must I destroy

what poison must I bleed

for the lord

to put his finger across my throat

and bleed me dry 

in front of a cheering crowd?

What does it take for me to be left aside?