Prick

So softly named, the lusting acts which separate the devil’s blood from god’s,
some desert needle point of heaven’s chance to pepper black and white into my eyes, sting the bulging arteries that stick, the blood and piss of penetrating prick.

I will lose my head, without I cannot comprehend the cold and dark. My sense and self I gladly give, as though I have the choice to open it. I will walk in fire, and reap the scars for heat with numb engulf.