Reverberation

Astral souls are known
For being volatile.
What’s more stunning
Than watching your own
Personal seraphic supernova
Implode?

I anticipate your cosmic rays
Cloaking me,
Making me pyretic
As your carbon is expelled,
Your dust used to concoct
Biblical ink in a Motel 6.
How often are you skimmed
Searching for a sign
Of repentance?
How many sinners
Have you become a part of?

Personally, my favorite passage
Is the one where your binding
Is ripped out and water-logged
By the guy who made you spaghetti
And photoelectric art.
But that wasn’t the first time
Someone dog-eared your pages.
How about Genesis
Where the footnotes berated
Your wholesome persona,
Making a mockery of your piety?
Forensics could lift hundreds
Of identities off your soiled prose.

But that wasn’t the last time
Someone would salivate coffee
Onto your ribbons and ligature marks.
Caustic and habitually
Becoming more addicted to
This subtle destruction—
I hope you never learn gentility.
Corruption looks too lovely on you.