The world (?) & I have brought the iron hammer down hard
on the nails in this cross, burden of self-lies, selfishness.
Permanent birthmark of beast tattooed
on skin & inside me & all my sins
diffuses through, poisoning everything (even you, now).
diffuses through, poisoning everything (even you, now).
Surrender this life to the Iron Fist
plummeting apathetically (arbitrarily)
down from a laceration in the sky.
Let it smash down hard—libera me.
Life isn’t art, doesn’t have any heart:
doesn't want my art or my soul,
no way to rip it up & start again.
So when (the demons &) I go, burn the corpse.
Put the ashes in the charred pot of a dead plant
where they won’t contaminate anything else
or grow more volunteer plants you’ll mistakenly touch & eat,
eternal toxins embedded within, inexorcisable possession.
