I wear the skin of forgotten saints
Woven in silence, stitched with rot
In cathedrals where echoes kneel
I recite psalms no god forgets
I crowned myself with the halo of ruin
Nailed my shadow to the sun
Not to rise, but to become the void that ends the One
Beneath the altar, a heart still beats
But not for man, nor beast, nor sky
It pulses with a darker will
The hunger of the eye
The veil tore not from sky to stone, but from mind to morrow
The light came not as mercy, but as blade - and I drown
Scripture cracked beneath my tongue, a fruit long overripe
I spat out God like stale incense and crowned myself with blight
