Visions of purgatory

The wound of rejection runs deep:

It permeates every molecule, 

Reverberating through 

every fibre,

every pore,

every sinew. 

Surely it has lodged something sinister 

Deep within her corpse:

Perhaps a beldam’s ancient curse

Or a maggot-infested core. 

Perhaps a hex bewitches 

the Leviathan to her,

Like the waves which slam 

against the shore,

& the siren who 

lures lecherous men 

into the abyssopelagic floor. 

She attempts to purge 

the vileness within

By conjuring up 

fantasies of God—

Slicing her belly 

& eviscerating

her entrails,

Till her vessel 

gushes burgundy, 

raw. 

In these sybilline visions,

She is finally pure;

The gall in her humours

have been drawn out 

Through holy torture, 

in a sacrament 

of Abrahamic lore.

These infernal reveries 

cast a spell of 

peaceful sleep -

For in these 

Sanguinary dreams 

She is accepted, 

at long last - 

By the Being, 

so Supreme.