Tokens of deaths presence lying strewn about
bones pulled from arms & legs littering the ground
meaningless words unable to stop what’s next
soon wrapped in the skin of an ox
Still…fresh…bloody
cries for…mercy
openly
Hands nailed to the patibulum palms facing down
forcing the body forward shins shattered & both knees
hair still attached to remnants of flesh
onlookers abandon secret beliefs
Gather…the ointment
speak to me
of murder…Gehenna…& hatred
dwells beneath…sleeping til
its summoned
Practicing the craft from an early age
as your elder instructs in the ways
a drink of blood as we understand
was required at the start of the plan
Hatred
of light
I won’t die
purify the wretched
I won’t die
Into these…fires