after the watchful monsters are sated
with the watery sludge of my butchered name
and the acrid aftertaste of their contempt
is replaced by the mundane
after the last bile has issued forth from their murderous mouths
and they have arrogantly clothed themselves in ignorance
the broken flock in times of nothingness
will hear my name, distinct within
and see my face in past animation
a secret indulgence
that they could not confess to their merciless gods
as i begin to live another journey
in a time that is forever diverging from theirs
i will not make a nest for them in my consciousness
or lament the insanity
of slaves who cling to the legs of their tormentors
after the cages have been flung open
and the shackles broken