Blood/ Fatima
"Why have you come here?" he asked.
I had come to do my due with blood. But the thing is, the reality of it is, that all of the lines connect within me. They efface me. I have no mouth, no eyes, no features. My hair is uncovered. It is always uncovered.
"You are one of Abraham's children," he said, softly.
"Fatima. His most beloved."
"You are a sacrilege. You blaspheme by putting your feet on the ground. From your eyes should come the love of the prophets, the praises of Divinity, the light and stars of Everlasting Truth. You are a sack of filth and bones. You enter at the gates with your legs bare and your eyes loving money."
But he did not know the praises that I sang, nor the love that I gave. I am material and warm. I baptized in Gaul. I baptize with my womb. In this place, this tiny room, they want to take Eternity away from me. They say the litanies of prison are the greatest and most devout.
Teach me this blasphemy that I seemingly know, so that I can brew blood into nourishment. The Prophet did not know, selah. He knew not what he did when he said "This is my blood." They cannot speak the logos in my blood.
In the name of the Mother, Father, sons, daughters, queers and Holy Prophets, I am what has been written. I am what will be written. I am neither Eternal or Feminine. I am Fatima.
Blaspheme in your blood. Blaspheme with blood. If they murder me in the wrong way, I will be unclean. But only then.
I had come to do my due with blood. But the thing is, the reality of it is, that all of the lines connect within me. They efface me. I have no mouth, no eyes, no features. My hair is uncovered. It is always uncovered.
"You are one of Abraham's children," he said, softly.
"Fatima. His most beloved."
"You are a sacrilege. You blaspheme by putting your feet on the ground. From your eyes should come the love of the prophets, the praises of Divinity, the light and stars of Everlasting Truth. You are a sack of filth and bones. You enter at the gates with your legs bare and your eyes loving money."
But he did not know the praises that I sang, nor the love that I gave. I am material and warm. I baptized in Gaul. I baptize with my womb. In this place, this tiny room, they want to take Eternity away from me. They say the litanies of prison are the greatest and most devout.
Teach me this blasphemy that I seemingly know, so that I can brew blood into nourishment. The Prophet did not know, selah. He knew not what he did when he said "This is my blood." They cannot speak the logos in my blood.
In the name of the Mother, Father, sons, daughters, queers and Holy Prophets, I am what has been written. I am what will be written. I am neither Eternal or Feminine. I am Fatima.
Blaspheme in your blood. Blaspheme with blood. If they murder me in the wrong way, I will be unclean. But only then.
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