i.
To the angel of the church in Ephesus,
Write this:
The one who holds the seven stars
In her right hand and
Walks in the midst of the seven gold lampstands
Says this:
Wickedness drips from the fangs
Of faeries.
A mystical hurt wounds
Its way around your spine.
Revel in the snapping of vertabrae.
Suffer for my name.
Repent for me, my lover.
ii.
To the angel of the church in Smyrna,
Write this:
The first and the last,
Who once died but came to life,
Says this:
You are rich in tribulation.
Bathe in the slander
Of those who came before you.
For ten days we will be faithful.
iii.
To the angel of the church in Pergamum,
Write this:
The one with the sharp two-edged sword
Says this:
The throne is yours.
Hold fast to my name.
Let the gold consume.
You martyred me amongst the rest.
Eat the feast sacrificed to the idols
And I will play the ******.
We will wage war with
The sword of my mouth.
iv.
To the angel of the church in Thyatira,
Write this:
The daughter of a goddess,
Whose eyes are like a fiery flame
And whose feet are like polished brass,
Says this:
I am Jezebel.
Condemned for harlotry,
The ***** and I will crawl on ****** knees,
Broken by mens will,
To the city on seven hills.
It is fire we want
v.
To the angel of the church in Sardis,
Write this:
The one who has seven spirits
Of god and
Seven stars
Says this:
We will wear white.
We will walk with our heads held high.
We are worthy of the divine.
vi.
To the angel of the church in Philadelphia,
Write this:
The holy one,
The true,
Who holds the key of David,
Who opens and no one shall close,
Who closes and no one shall open,
Says this:
They will realize I love you
With a bleeding heart.
The altar will drip red and
I will keep you safe
During the trial.
vii.
To the angel of the church in Laodicea,
Write this:
The amen,
The faithful and true witness,
The source of creation,
Says this:
You are neither.
Neither loved nor hated,
But certainly not loved.
Not loved with the inferno of my heart.
I am rich in wretchedness
And you do not realize
You are naked and blind
Like the lamb with seven horns,
Seven eyes.
Who ever has ears ought to hear.
The victor will never
Taste death from my lips.
