Christ blood warms my skin till it burns At times I’m drowning Others I’m dying of thirst More still its just enough to get by Sometimes its as close as whispering lips upon my ear Others its as far away as the voice on the other end of the telephone More often than not its in sight but never near enough for me to touch I can barely stand to look at the wound It burns at my eyes but I close them and stare anyway Its so hard to believe that an inflammation could be so beautiful