Tumgik
Text
For the unseen wooden bones that smoulder and blacken,
As my people dance before the fires we set to the mountainside,
For the heart that pumps thin emerald water in lieu of thick crimson blood,
Which beats for none other than myself and myself alone,
For the organic circuitry within my skull,
Laid out in error, with sparks that burn and singe and fly,
For the divinity rotting poison that bubbles under my skin,
That I welcome with open, hairy arms,
For the sloth that overtakes my body,
And seeps into sinew and muscles and tendons,
For the pleasures of the flesh which I partake in,
With men and women and those beyond,
For the names of gods long forgotten,
That we have not uttered since you razed our temples,
For the name of the god forced upon us,
Which you fail to see as your own,
For my body, a vessel for life,
That I made barren by my own hands,
For the names of bygone friends,
Spoken with the fondness of lost lovers,
For my own treason,
Of stepping over the line,
And crushing it beneath my foot,
Of twisting its shape and form,
And bending it to suit my own,
Of taking the chalk dust, and scattering it in the uncaring wind,
Over,
And over,
And over again,
For the prize of inhumanity,
Which I have made my home.
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