Every Thursday my angel comes
he knocks on the door of fate
though everything inside him screams
he prostitutes himself for me
and his humiliation wraps itself around me
with protective incantations
so I don't have to pray
the world is laid open for me
I'm the lightness, I'm the dream
I'm the little toe of your foot
the great of the world serve me
my forehead is free of worry
and my body's pure
in my white dress string of amber
my shoes are made of moss
nothing disturbes me in my merriment
the only story is of I
yesterday angel said no
a dark star is over my head
my old face is wrinkled and cracked
scary is my shaking hand
fruit of fear cracks inside of me
I start to pray again
feet are bleeding
I'm the dirt from under your nail
and I pray to be invisible
my angel left me yesterday