Martyr

I would die
one thousand singular deaths
relive the final drawn
breath
of every martyr.
I would slide my soul
wet and naked
across the oily cesspools
of eternal hellfire.
I would do this
to have you
just once
look at me
and not
through me

To Heal

we thought
that turning my wounds
into your salt lick
would be erotic
would negate their import
but as your tongue
ran its course
the pain crystallized
my thoughts
and i knew I would always be wrong

Retribution

And what would this
retribution
be?
What cost would you
exact
from me?
What would you take?
My skin?
elastic and reflective
My laugh?
a mirror of you
These fingers, this sparkle, my will?
What would you have me give to you?
Would we plumb the depths?
together?
Your hand in mine
would we search the
oil
the tissue
the rancid blotting of my soul?
Would you claw
as a raptor
on prey?
Would you sink into my flesh?
my bones?
my weary need?
Would you tear from me
all that I owed you?
all that I have never repaid?
What would you leave in its place?