three months from now, you'll swear on bleeding lips
that you wish you could grow golden hyacinths
from the flickering remnants of a heart under a beating chest
and to enter the mausoleum of heroes and legends
everything untouchable in heavens,
unknown to your virginal hands and nebulous innocence

pinprick your fingers to bleed honey and ambrosia
and the gods may bear mercy to you,
the piteous you who had never been kissed 
by a maiden enveloped in nauseating hearts
and the brilliant youth your parents promised you,
when you were into this world on a stranger's whim

divide and conquer yourself
loose limbs, unbidden breath and a desperate mouth: gifts to shameless death,
remove them.
kneel to the godless you and worship your flesh and devour it,
absolve yourself.
take the dagger and fill your crown with a liar's hymn,
grant salvation unto you.