The Gods Must Be Lying PhemieC

There’s a boy here lying quiet in my shadow like a prayer
He drips from every angle into colours that I wear
He wanders like a saint on predatory pilgrimage
With a grimace and a limp he puts his wrist against my cartilage

And I could separate these bones, I could pack them into prose
Or I could hold a cancer in my soul until it overflows
But there is only boy and breath
Gentle handprints on my chest
Mouthing little darling, deepest, loveliest of sacrilege

This boy of filth, he’s born of Gods
He clutches at my flaws, he drags me from my holocaust
He takes my limbs, he wraps them around him
He takes my shake and takes my sick and feeds me bread and then

These violent wall eyed dreams that mite their way into my fear of me and mine
These wines and sugars in my blood, they mutter “Take your claws and climb
The inch of every pale moon love, you once swore you’d pay nevermind”
When I am on the side of you, I’d say my gods were always lying
Lying

There’s a girl pacing around me, proselytizing parasite
Her sick, acidic logic ridicules the ancient rite
And when her teeth break up on me like tiny cliffs of chalk
I crash into her canyon, lick the injuries she likes to mock