i don't pray anymore
what with the
pink sugar that stains my teeth
the nettles that grow
out of my scalp
and the acetone in my lungs.
i don’t dare
wear the dress of a bride
while malice and contempt
perfume my neck
and my skin is a vessel
for rotten residue.
i don’t pray anymore,
for i don't want any god of mine
to sip
from a stained cup.
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