I want to make a tone without apology
singing whatever heart song comes through me
Because, my darlings,
whatever comes through me is also you.
The beauty is in the off-tune song,
the bravery of belting out of your vocal chords
when you are uncertain
what sound the release of breath
will bring through rusty pipes.
When our lineages have been silenced for millennia,
may we praise whatever sound comes forth.
These are the voices, the songs of angels
that have been buried by the tasteless wafers
shoved down our throats.
Can’t you feel the swelling
in your abused esophagus bulging of bread?
You have nothing to atone for dear one.
Spit that shit out at their fucking feet.
