They say hellfire hungers
for fuel, for those who will not follow.
So cremate my breathing body.
Stir the ashes into a soup
served up to the faithful
in soft, felted footsteps
of purple and tangerine.
I will raise a fist, flip a finger.
I want to stick in their throats
because I am too slick to swallow,
because their belief is blinding
me with honey smiles
and hands laid in numinous touch.
Burn away my body
and make my breath
an eternal flame