Stigmata

Stigmata

 

Come with me to the depth of depravity,

              together, let us sink.

Squirm with me as we enter insanity

              and kill what once was pink.

 

I remember screaming as my womb was being taken,

              this life I could forecast.

Umbilical cord cut, I was forsaken

              and into this world cast.

 

Now nihilism is a wicked condition

              that I’ve accepted with open arms.

In a stance prepared for crucifixion

              I weep of life, its charms.

 

Memories are my stigmata

              I bleed into my glass.

I’ve no life left with which to barter,

              of love I’ve had to pass.

 

Into the foetal position I crawl at night,

              and with salted wounds I pray.

This world I’ve built I do now fight.

              I watch my reasons blur, astray.

 

The virgin that I’ve sacrificed,

              native and pure, my soul.

Come taste bitterly of my vice.

              My anguish must be told.

 

                            Leppington Caravan Park, 1995.