Trans Corpus

Hydra

Barbed blessings twist threaded

Truth. Cherry stains on virgin lips;

Hope harbors our hearts still.

Still, carved cave remains underfoot,

Unburdened. If I could scribe runic texts

To cast understanding, and rid hurt,

To place fellowship over demand

Of the body, of the heart.

If only to make myself clear.

Never again shall I fear.

Fiends awaken; we children of Hades.

Foul-stench dribbles from clergy ties

Violence to God to State to us.

Shattered flint rock falls from blind fools

Attempts at reaching horded gold.

Never again shall I bleed.

Should ever this skin

Thin to shades of ghostly white.

No blade will I blame, no.

Sweet strawberry wine would rot.

A motley mold to entrench false tongues.

Venomous froth to cry out for all death.

Seek forgiveness no more.

Corruption marks all eyes once familiar.