I gave up kissing rune
Gave up what was made to seem like black magic
And black bristle bottle brush lungs.
I pasted host sized patches on my skin
To feel their holiness flow through my body.
Pure beige not hazy yellow stains.
I deny and
I wear these few extra pounds like a merit badge
robe of glowing flesh.
And then this man who walks before me...
From the old religion,
With greased hair
And lumbering gait
His specks of ashes float back on the breeze
Like a tenacious spirit
On haunting me.
Until one day I repent and fall,
To my knees.
A length of a fragrant brown saint's fingerbone
Clamped between my chattering teeth.
Calling an eternal flame to life,
To bring the relic
To blazing glory - so,
It can fill me up
With weightless, burning clouds
And make me feel