I rub myself in ointments and oils,
Flowers of the dead and of Death.
I am soaked in the spit and blood of the Gods,
Brain and heart pounding on flesh and bone.
The spirits are climbing out of my lungs,
Pushing through my throat
The pain of surrender is the ecstasy of the wild.
The tears fall down my cheeks; rivers of sacrifice and love.
I claw at my flesh,
It is the soil in which my soul is housed,
I rip and tear until my soul is exposed.
There is an old toad croaking in my belly
There are birds in my chest,
The moths dance in my fingers,
I am writhing snakes, and howling dogs
I am roots and feathers
Bound by blood.