Cross-Sectioning The City of Saints

Jan 23

a goddess learns quickly that prayer, when

dissected, is an addiction just like any other. if you

slice into the midst of the dionysian stupor and peer

beyond the sirens, merchants, and thieves, you

shall see a chapel in the city. the air shall thicken

with the heat of youth. the smell of burning

frankincense & myrrh, gifts from the wise women,

shall drift beneath the scorching sun, heads thrown

back and mouths falling open in homage to the

feminine deities. you shall be a specter caught

between bodies, in a sort of boundless purgatory, a

state of being insatiable. then, the priestess shall

approach you, stumbling drunkenly, and she shall

seize your hand and press a single coin into your

palm, the touch of auspicious gold scarring

stigmata into your flesh.

Pearl Eyes