the shower of pure.

s is for stale.
these pale lips
are swollen with shame and
the animal game has tattooed your name.
vultures vultures that circle and prey,
pick, peel at your limbs; praying for some flesh.
like flies they swarm.crawling around your wounds,
covering them to only suck at you for
pleasure.pressure pressure that you will not remember
and pressure pressure you remember to ignore.
but the phoenix that you are, beneath your
exhuasted body,
labours to take flight and fight
at the demons that caress.confess to the sins
of your weakness and shine above your ashes,
for you are truly as beautiful as the sun.