Let spill the sizzling hilt of sword
that dams your flooding blood with steel
the lapping blade, its greedy stains
which bring the coping rain.
My vision blurs, I sink and swirl
and every cell within.
my poison will never win
I vomit ink to cure the meat
of pages of empty sin.
Make me a steak of refusal-fate
and I’ll spit in my hand and grin.
I’ll slay whatever filthy hound
would cut my bile with gin.
I don’t know who I am when all these wordlets nip my skin