Damn Easter Saturday Hell Harrow

You were supposed to be resting.
After nails hammered into
your sinews and raised up
on those two planks of tree.

“It is finished.” You said,
then they hauled your lily white
linen wrapped bloody carcass
to that sand gritted hole and corked
you in it with freakin’ great stone.

And you stroll down here,
fresh as you like, to harrow
us child molesters, rapists,
killers with soft bleatings,
take the pain away
like a bleeding Anadin tablet.

I need to suffer. Bleed.
Stab these red eyes out
with white hot needles.
Never. Wash. These. Hands.
Of. Blood. You. Hear. Me.
Don’t. You. Take. Pain. Away.
From. Me. What gives you
the right to make it all go away?

We only live if we hurt. Jesus.
Pain makes it worthwhile.
Please make it hurt again.
I am not meant for paradise.

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