High Priest

Systolic clashing, crashing
pressure; squeezing walls,
crushing that which he thought
Lovely. Brown spheres with burning
portals suck life blood from
mere small talk–
naive impatient heart
simmer down down down
Heal him with that very lovely
Calm him with the tears
of longing
Rest him in the folds
of praying arms

Be cast iron in his eyes.

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