xxi

it lifts us up, it keeps us raised
severed from our limbs; the countless others
relieved of what we once deserved
a flooding grave of all love returned
a lust like viscera dripped down our throats
spoiled fruit, sickening sweetly
fucked the marrow from the core
in pursuit of the pain that we once abhorred
it’s the punishment that we covet
the bending of metal unable to break
a reliance on the sickness to become the fetish
resplendent in our pursuit of what cannot be replenished
dull the senses until the silence is echolalia
patience betrayed for memory’s intoxication
all to spiral in a disappointment inescapable
clawing at the throat of an appetite insatiable
in servitude to the faith of flesh i give
the hymns are blooded with all our sins
my god is neglectful, but it is all i know
we claim our heaven where no life can grow