Prayers from a Divine Cannibal
The eating is only to know you better,
to see the timeless mystic inside.
For our flesh is the first of many layers that keeps us molded to size.
So many layers keep ourselves tied at bay,
bones… blue tissues… long hair.
I bless those who rip off all of their clothes, and at least show a layer deep.
Knowing the freedom of flinging clothes, running into the cold,
flirting in midnight waters…could only be a taste of what it must be like to leave
our bones, our flesh, the weight of our sixteen pound heads.
I bless those who eat everyone of their fingers and toes,
the hardest of the human to eat.
They ‘ve been painted and buffed, slaved and torn, but the honor has always been left for the heart.
Having dealt with the hardest of roads and the slippiest handshakes,
the extremities are the entrance doors for the world outside of us.
So if I eat away the door built strongly in it’s floor, there is nothing dividing us.
And then, of course as everyone knows I bless those that pee in my tea.
I’m sure you all know how the old adage goes, the better to keep close your enemies.
-written from somewhere inside a puddle in portland