sometimes i wish everybody could read the words that I’m carrying within my skin marks that a pale knife once carved on me never healed pustules that I keep on opening swollen by the snakes writhing inside of me and they come out of my head, out of my head, out of my head my body is like a blackboard and wanting to die is the chalk and oh if I had an extra hand to tattoo hate hate hate across my fingers here’s my prayer to you, butcher catalogue my poems before you cry it all out tumor est tumor est there’s blasphemy all over my chest an halo bent around my neck a triple h across my left hand
credits
from ate ate ate,
released April 1, 2008
Francesco Smania plays trumpet
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