The promise of truth

Sharp as a knife

Cut my heart

Deep even

Into the sticky

Depths pumping life

Splayed open in

Brilliant gospel red

 

Prodigal searching

And finding that

Last coin, even me

 

Spasms of light vanish

Leaving mortal wounds

Bleeding and severed

Nerve ends quaking

Dark blood oozing

Across the fog of

Neurons firing one

Sunday morning

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