heaven sent, arrhythmia rests
silence from my aching chest
though there's no tombstone where I sleep
all I need is what I reap
the earth beneath my fingernails
bleeds into the soil of verdant hills.

my skin a canvas, often wasted
on trifles better left to rot
now blooms violet among the wakeless
strewn with squirming, hungry gods.

and all I've longed for is what I gather
pushing daisies up from buried heather
my lips stained ivory from the foam
of the little brown bottle I brought home
from the apothecary who believed I had an infestation
serving me the peace I longed for with exaltant damnation.