Painting the bodies of the sleeping cult.
I am no other man,
I am the sound of the unholy whisper.
Writing scriptures on the flesh of the gone.
I hear of depression and destruction,
Of conventions and possessions!
Sleeping face first, my body is taken by him.
The God of the flesh and sweat
from the breath.
I was humane with a thousand names, sleeping in my own flesh.
Now I burn in fire of his desires,
Desires of flesh possession.
© Aniket More