The Chalice

I shall drink today and wash my whole self with the dark pulp
that came from putting together all my mistakes and regrets,
my foolishness and iniquities, past and yet to come,

For those who not see, those who cover their heads in horror,
mutter their words with the broken tongue of sand,
thinking of them as the repulsive offspring of my being,
the ultimate abomination of flesh and blood,
the stench of fluids and the corruption of the righteous mind.

Mothers will fall at my feet, begging not to,
but I will remain unaffected, heartless,
drinking until the last drop of the dark substance,
embracing in solitude and failure,
the reason why I loved,
I lied, I lived,
I was.