holy
holy
i do not find God
among the winged and the beloved
the saints adorn with white cloth
i oft find my god instead
residing snugly between the cold steel
of a razor blade and my ever exposed skin
bared for the world to see, wide open
as a sick, disgusting pulse throbs within me
and I feel the world dissolve into a-
drip, drop, drip, drop
a melodious rhapsody that grounds me to my core
rips out my shrunken lungs and forces me to stop
the shallow, broken wheezes escaping my mouth
i am a puppet to these moments
underneath the cool moonlight
i stumble blindly to you, to a sanctimonious smile
which is just a touch too bright for my tastes
rip into your chest, tear you to shreds, a bloody mess
what’s the point in holding back?
cause I will never be holy enough for you.
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