with my body, god

i am the frothful forbearance of

faceless ancestry.

here there’s no attending to, just a

dumb-mouthed

gape, a loveless lock on my heart that drips

vitrol and venom.

i am wretched and see my own

distrust flickering like carrion in your eyes.

i do not trust you, or the white robes

or dizzying celestial

dazzle

when i am married to the darkest thing within me.

open-mouthed, and wailing.

it moans and crows. it wounds and it winds.

i am an an, an-anahata, anti

i am a negating void which laughs at 

your piety

and pierces the seventh chamber

of your heart, where you lay in the un-god’s chamber

Heart truthfully full of contempt and a dumb mind unable 

to see the stroke of god itself is the only thing

truly alive 

i find no solace in the sun or its

myriad hymns. no. i am the gated garden, gaited

guarded and frothing. feral,

i am screaming and i am alone

i am screaming and i am alone

the sky is blue again today

and i wish i was boring and innocent

but i am not innocent.

there is no place for me there, or there,

or there.

but here there is and so here i am.

if you ask me what i am i can only speak

in riddles. or rhymes. if you ask me what you are,

___ appears.

i am unbroken

and i am shattered

i am weeping at the cross of my body knowing

what it knows, but in knowing, knowing you

and i am weeping, with only a furious opening 

that was once a gaping wound

i spat on it and carry the cross across the sky

writing and weeping

with an excruciating wisdom

too great to bear but i bear it, and birth it

too great to bear, but i bear it and

birth it

with my body, god

with my body, god

and i wield it, and i write it, birth it

with my body,

god