At long last, another poem. Academia leaves little time for poetry... so, naturally, this one was written during class and about a subject I was studying!
I am who am,
and you can call me
My flames burn only skin.
I am so wise
I saw our compromise in a dream.
my distillations bleed through the prophets,
and I alone am the LORD.
if I open your eyes you will feel charity
if I peel off your skin you will see you are made of salt
Your mother and father marked my Name on your skin
Your bones will stack up to make your wife
and where there is wailing
and gnashing of teeth,
you will hear the music above
the bleating of the sheep