Blasphemy

(Written at age 19.)

dig a little scar into my bed
shoot bullet holes in my frowning back
blur the tiny whispers of smiles
that onto my lips sneakily attack

bore needles into my sleepy eyes
pluck the nails off my fingers
douse in thick red the weary happiness
that in my chest wondrously lingers

call blasphemy on its outrageous charge
shine a light in its guilty face
cut slits in its delicate wrist
until it vanishes in promised grace