Keep the tips of my fingers callused,
The rings to my eye sockets,
Deep and purple.
I do not have the luxury of being lightning in a bottle,
I must make my presence known through substance,
Filling the sea of aspirations with my own,
Intoxicating and plentiful,
The key to any readers hearts,
My own suffering.
I will expose myself bare,
Devour my offering so that I may find release.
Understand my plight,
Leave your body and see the world through my own,
Let it dissolve your stubborn core,
Much as it has my own.