i’ve been feeding swine and swans spoils from my flesh alike
this body akin to fermented dough
folded in on itself over an alter
if not me, then Jesus Christ 
or Sylvia Plath
squatting on a slab of stone in a city center
as the chorus pleads “please pray” 
before swiftly announcing 
“this soul is not for sale” 
messiah or mozart
genius or generally idolized 
i am food for the famished and the full and the otherwise too fucked to feel spiritual contentment