The Disaster is Coming

My mouth

is spoken

but hollow

and torn

demonic

with evil

things

and thoughts

and peeled

inside, the 

tongue and 

tissue,

flaked away

like skin dying

in the sun.

Sin is sometimes

the only thing

I eat, less

calories, slim waist,

and I take

that quick image

with my eyes

like it’s the only

picture worth

seeing.

Grant me

freedom,

dead serpents,

clean air,

a fiery heart.

Because no

good deed goes

unpunished.

Let me know 

the punishment,

like I know

the hard parts

of the dark.