my body as the garden of eden
i walk to my own sacrifice, a holy vessel cast from the mould of the gods.
what will they think of gods creation as it unravels before their eyes?
as my blood flows in parallel with the souls that came before me, is my humanity still admired?
i find the strength to watch my guts slowly pool into the dim light.
i run intestines through my bloodied hands, marveling at their fragile intricacy.
my eyes wander to the skylight above, colors flowing so gently onto my figure.
"is this your creation?"
i cry.
"am i still holy? created in the image of you?"
"bearer of the sin of eve?"
my vision is fading, blurring the room into an amalgamation.
my eyes fall onto featureless faces.
"am i forgiven? loved by the creator?"
"are my organs exempt from the devils temptations? or created solely in his image?"
the blurring figures do not respond.
i choke through my blood-filled mouth.
"is this what your saviour intended?"
time ceases, leaving the last of my life to ebb out through the hole in my abdomen.
forevermore, the sacrificial bearer of sin lay still below the light of god.