Pus in the pupils, it is
here the soul leaves, like
sight is a wound that
goes unbearing, cannot
keep bearing--belligerent

Blood that pricks up in a
nauseous rage, blood that
spills unrested in the veins

Inside the body death is
deadness and the sound of
old ropes twisting, trinity
of blame, blistering cross

God as a widower, God as
crutch, God as dead man
inside the tomb of the chest