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.
No comments:
Post a Comment