the skin that justifies the axe

the eye that makes flesh
credible

the God that speaks
when least expected

gay virgins
that heal

the king that made it all
crystal and dust

the little details that matter

the wound that laughs like
a child

and his majesty the
scalpel

the light that whispers your
name

the paranoid morning

the sleeping pills that
keep you awake

and the loved ones
becoming

legitimate heirs of
thin air

the doctors
in black robes

that manage to heal us

beyond measure & disguise

we are the apostles of
the tideland

crooked creatures of the
night