Put coal in your palm
and get angry
until you make diamonds
but don’t stop there
keep compressing
keep pushing
these perfect little tumors of humanity
until they’re buried in your palms
like a psyhic
because you’ll need
all the gilts
and glamour
and shit stars are made of
to ever lead someone through the dark
you bastard
you martyr
you fucking drunkard
you broken headed
empty mouth’d
recycled same old sigh
bastard
burn coal
down to embers
and keep warm
curling yourself over
in embers
dying cold
instead of
crafting anything
you bastard
you drunkard.
