In order to save the world
I must first become unfit for it.
I drink black blood
from a silver rimmed chalice
while everyone watches to see if I die.
I let the dark take root
at the base of my spine.
It sharpens my dreams
until the rot inside
Every
Beautiful
Thing
begins to glow.
Where do I see myself in five years?
Probably underground.
Following a song no one else can hear.
Still, sign me up!
I never wanted heaven anyway.
It was built for the unspoiled.
I’ve always wanted to know
more about the damned.
Give me the poisoned cup.
Make me useful by ruining me.
Give me some terrible purpose large enough
to make sense of what I’ve been carrying.
And when I do NOT die
call me Chosen.
Chestnut Cowboy 