Hallelujah. 2.

I scream a lipless howl  
at an uncaring sky  
from the top of the pile  
of crucifix shrapnel  
 
when blood and water  
pour from a chalice,  
my parched lips beg  
for a drink  
and I end with the  
sponge filled with bile  
pressed against lips  
too cracked to  
call out for you  
 
again  
 
or again  
 
so I just keen  
directly from the  
sucking chest wound  
 
it makes the pain echo  
like betrayal,  
 
and that’s  
a familiar pain at least.  
   
you fucking left me on the  
altar waiting for the nails to
bleed me out slowly through  
my hands,  
as if my  
blinded eyes  
hadn’t weakened me enough  
to just lie here in defeat  
 
and where were you when  
my broken body was  
thrown to the crows;  
who took my hair to nest,  
who slit a man’s throat to  
crawl up my thigh,  
where were you.  
 
where were you.  
 
You were waiting to act  
on a prayer,  
as if some sort of  
magic words would  
revivify your  
careless sack of flesh  
and make you act.  
You were waiting  
for my tormented mouth  
to utter the words  
 
But I don’t know the words  
I never fucking knew the words  
But I knew  
 
that they weren’t for you  
 
and yet  
 
I have just enough left  
to let my head fall back  
on the broken cross  
and see the world inverted  
 
see what could have  
what would have  
 
should… have...  
 
and just enough breath  
to scream wordlessly  
 
the sun sets with my  
noise reverberating my bones  
this final time.  
 
it sounds like a prayer  
 
the only one  
I’ve ever known.