first gen

Paint your morning blossom cheeks
A darker shade than the ethereal night
Poke holes in your funeral clothes darling
Let the angels and their hallowed virgin light
Leak from your pores like ichor
Heaven's colors never quite reach far down enough
To make a power-drunk god's eyes see
In more than black and white

And we the primordials will be pagan still
As we fix the mistakes of the youth divine
That foolish child was too busy splicing himself threefold
To see his version of humanity fall apart
Under the rotting crosses they erected for his dead son's sake