This razor is for you. A sterile tongue longs for wetness,
I am only able to consecrate myself with its shine.
Behold me. I vertical my veins, you rejoice
with slumber, vulgar boy who cannot perspire. What wicked song
like heaven can you thrust from your gut? What poison
ingested with laughter?
I crave you in the silent spaces of my anguish. I carry misfortune
over my bones to hide the scars of your resurrection. My hair,
a bundle of thorn, the songs of seraphs cannot nest
in its bark. Behold me When you gaze
into the mirror, I cannot be a liar. I am a luxurious burden.
Call me your lover , crawl inside my grave.