A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth

Needles and Nails and Crowns of Thorn

An inch to a sliver 

For whom the bell tolls

A splinter of disregard, buried deep below white skin 

I believe in Christ, but sometimes I don’t know if he believes in me

So, I blow on every wish flower, scattering fluffy white sparks and planting seeds 

For the weeds

For the birds 

For the fulfillment of the word 

My body, poured out in forgetfulness 

Nothing but nothing 

Quietly waiting for a syringe of morphine to return me to the vacuum of

the deep-sea-mind