Legion

My skin is cast in plaster

And the mold is long since broken.

Limestone induction.

Birth by force of will.

The spirit of the long dead,

Set up to dry on the windowsill.

Your costumer, she found me

In a charnel house,

The bones like yellow bells,

That clicker-clacked against each other,

Form in search of shell,

A heart as well, 

She dug 

From underneath the soil

That still clings beneath her nails -

Heart of someone,

She would not say who,

A cast off costume from

Some long forgotten show.

She formed this plaster flesh,

And carved the sigil in

My forehead's plaster skin, 

And whispered in my ear

The only honest word:

The secret name of God.

She swept the floors all still and clean.

She did her best.

This monster-mass of living flesh 

Among a forest of 

Automatons.

For I am Legion,

Cast into the swine,

The swine then trained to stand

Upon hind legs

And speak the tongue of man.

Lord do not keep me here

On cloven, trembling feet.

Oh gods! Release me!

Let me run the grassy grade

To drown my self

At last in the salt-sick sea!

(Image by Javier Flores)