86

Cut my wrists, watch me bleed out; it’s red
The rage – that bubbles up and projects through our eyes
Like a tornado it spins – leaving us dregs, dead inside, but joined at the rib
-The Eve of our advent is upon us.

Open your hands watch the design;
The intricate lacework of your veins that reflect the bonds that bind us;
Infinitely – Is Eden our Aim?

Kiss my lips, draw a pattern – of your desire;
Wounded but still hungry, we sustain each other -
Your breath, my blood …
We dissolve into the source of life – water

Watch the scars – the crown; a hint of my former glory -
The veil – now black and discarded – your innocence no more.
Here we are – broken – disfigured.
-Perhaps when sun comes up we’ll turn to stone

The Golgotha of pain drains all but those who are already dead inside.

[For the title, look up the meaning under numerology - make of it what you will]