Light me up

And cover me I’m done

As I fall out of your bed

Not ruled but something yet

Pulls me back in on the self

Did we say it again am I sainted and

Tell yourself don’t be so proud

I know it’s just a nothing sound repeated in your head

If we offend don’t be burnt out

I know I know we plead so loud in all our saintmaking

I know it’s just the way we let our fear out on our breath

And boreal thoughts

That we hang our instinct on

But if all could just be said

If cool intentions end then

What could we uncover in the self

Did we break it again are we sainted but

Tell yourself don’t be so proud

I know it’s dumb to play it down when all your instinct bends

If we ascend to feeling now

I know I know the nothing sound is all our saintmaking

Bow to the one who sits

In patient horror and

I was a god before you pulled

Under your sun under the thumb

We had a name I once belonged to everyone

And she said, all of her flowers bend

Backwards towards the sun, so innocent and warm

And that we ruin, such an honest bloom

With all of our offerings and all this saintmaking

And if I could I would surely put

An end to our suffering, just figure it out and bend

But I know, nothing comes from all our

Saint making