bow, knees bent,
hands twisted,
dripping with sweat –
pray the fine divine takes
back what wasn’t mine
to begin with.
“peasants, kings, bend
before my feet –
kneel, girl,
accept defeat.”
I bathe in the lake
of my sins;
to each their own holy water
(mine just happens
to go by the name of gin).

drink the blood
break the bread
worship the flesh
drown in the flood

and I smoke when I’m hungry
(which lately is all the time)
maybe I’m hoping to die, or
maybe if I stay thin,
I can squeeze through these
bars you put me in.
maybe if I happily grin
I can slip out of this
hell in which I’m pinned.
I cry holy,
I cry sanctuary,
again and again.
there’s only this wretch,
this turmoil within.
laughter, from Emmanuel:
my savior, my kin.

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