Weary of this flesh

I’ve grown weary of this flesh, 

I wish nothing more than ever to strip myself 

bare from this slippery cage. 

I will start with my arms—I will rejoice

as I watch the flap fall back,

blood riveting down like a river,

my pain will nourish me. 

I’ll be set free from my jail—like a phoenix, 

I will perish by the crescent of the moon

and my wings will be born once again 

by the disregard of the sun.

It’s pointless, you see, 

to walk around this earth with a “purpose.” 

A race of foolish children 

given a book of fables and mythology, 

we lead our lives by this fallacy.

And our curse — to dig away at the Earth 

until we strip all of her beauty. 

Until every river runs red and 

the birds collapse from the sky,

do we finally understand our true “purpose.”

 It will all be revealed at our last breath—

that we are nothing but an amusement

 to the higher powers that watch loftily from above. 

Children of dirt, we like the cover ourselves in it, 

don’t we? We’re proud of the huts we call homes.

Parasites we call children. We are grand 

because we never look up and see 

the true magnitude of the world. 

We are loud because our misery

haunts the brevity of our universe. 

We are wingless because 

we are not destined to be more— 

so that’s why I awaken. By severing my fate 

and releasing myself from this cage. 

The knife sings sweetly against my bones,

 urging me on as I chop and slice. 

I love an audience to my suffering, 

a pew to fall to my knees to as agony

is retched out me like a prayer.

I’m free, Father, I’m free— will you finally accept me? 

written – 9.4.2022