Altar – story


heart torn free, bleeding, beating, dying and dead. mouth wide and falling, like hope, to gather dust and become one with the detritus. in my head the phantom echo, murder murmur of the fading beats. my eyes sink into my skull, boil, erupt, explode into infinity leaving me not starfield but blackhole, which whispers like waves to join it and be free.
i am blind.
yet still i see.
see too much.
i see the fool, hands out, arms spread to a world with crossed arms.
i see the joker laughing at himself as the world laughs at him.
i can’t take it.
i pull both index fingers free and chew the skin from them until only bone remains. bared to bone i force the fingers into my palms, one for each hand, and smile at the pain.
not enough.
i pull free each leg and tear the flesh from them until again, all that remains is bone and i tie these together with the abandoned sinews. satisfied, i raise my cross and plant it in the wasteland-graveyard.
i look around and see flowers dying, animals starving, the world drying up, and above, the sun is full of blood. i climb up and onto my cross and take my place and turn my head to you, my infernal god, and ask you if you will accept me as your sacrifice.
am i enough to feed the volcano? to quell the anger? to end this season of rage?
am i, another pitable fool sacrifced upon the altar of your unholy heart, enough, or will you still want more?

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