Sacrficial

I own a pulse that is beating
my eyes through the sockets in
my skull.

Nothing but a silent name with a
twitching chest laid out on a stone
slate in a foriegn place. Ignoble but
somehow meant to catch a God's eye?

This land is arid and my body is
too dirty for your cause. The wild
cheers appease his sibilant chants
but my face is forced to watch his
tempestous eyes as a fist plunges
through me.

I am empty.

Watching myself throb in his palm.
This is all futile but how it
riles up a crowd.