She cleans the blood off of my jeans.
I don’t know how it gets there.
I’m just bleeding again. Again.
I fight with the world. It’s just my way.

God, I’m bleeding again. I’m tired,
tired of bleeding, tired of hurting.
The gods hate us; they’re jealous of us.
They fear our freedom. They fear us.

They are powerful and they crave
the live, flowing blood. They crave it.
It’s the only way to keep them quiet –
to open your pulsing veins to the world.

She cleans the blood off my jeans.
She’s an angel, pure and simple,
the rich purple stains she can make
disappear, make them clean again.



Syd Weedon
11/20/2022