The ridges of flesh
under your voice's blade rise
To penetrate consciousness,
to feel so alive
Yet the blood of our vows,
The meat of our methods
Consecrates our bonds
It is the lines that I love
Not the smooth tenderness
of your holy innocent
The calloused notches of your
vanity caught between thus
Where the real blade lies to us all
The wet release of our sins
Across skin, across skin
Until, again,
and again
You give in

To the rise of our breath
and the fall of our cuts
In the middle of days
Murderous justice
the collusion of cells
cold calculated severance
in karmic conscious rebellion
Is where we will collide