I am his child, bathed in sorrows,PG
with melted snow between my toes
for ritualizing the pain.
His pale ashes to crave,
cleared air, but a foggy absence.
Murky water to one day drown
(even if that’s just what I hold on to).
Because what lives within and floats around
are the psychic tellings of my soul.
I wanted to be shattered,
broken into with no permission.
I worship the sinner found through repentance;
it’s my compliance to a god who needs me to take it.