Watch it bleed

The blood.
The guts.
The bones.
Crystal drops from the sacred sky
We sever the hand that births life into spring
The day of birth is not hers, it ours.
Licking the cream from its fingertips,
Slicing the pieces that make us one.

Their legs shake in the first morning sky,
Life, new to their senses.
They suckle the fat warm milk,
Feeling dew on their new pink skin.

But life, life is ours
We dress in white to catch the drops of innocence

As lambs to the slaughter
We light our flames.
The burning of our unity,
The destruction of the flesh.

The blade drops low.
Painlessly through eyes of pleasure
The dreams of ended life flow thick, rich and sweet in our mouths


Come and feast on the life we offer
And as you eat think of the lives we grand as our own,
Plat its course hair into long white strands as we start the celebration.

Photo by @femke.appeltans
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