little convulsions
made the meat
die
how could it be of any use now
where i paint
the tree roots red, the soil white
blood trails and snow
like eyes
becoming useless things
cracked and oval shaped
and i can see a crucifixion
in magenta and azure and black
and how wonderful it is
to bake cup cakes
for the pentecost
heaven drains
amniotic
how i wish i could sever
every nerve ending
in this body
how i miss my mind
how i'd like to take a hacksaw
through my femur
be it
one morphine capsule
at a time
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reiterate, reiterate, reiterate
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