phlnch.
God, how many hearts were made for me?
through a lens of visceral realism, phlnch challenges traditional beliefs by intertwining anatomical precision with religious inquiry. her poetry deconstructs the weight of mortality against the vastness of the divine, seeking the sacred within the tenacity of our flesh & our bone.
explore where the theological meets the tangible.
few featured poems.
bring your nostrils
beneath mine, become
brethren. inhale mine
of which passeth through
cathedrals. a reliquary that
still wails. line our heels
lest we understand the
perversions of man.
interlinked, chain our arms,
we look to God with mirroring
faces. resting my lip
atop the billowing
ages, thus sayeth we be
sterile.
we be sterile.
we be sterile.
shivering shoulders &
flagellation. holey hands, we
pray together.
dispel wood from these
old eyes, oh, i despise your
hesitation. share
my bone, lick my fingers
to keep our hands white despite
our blood. lest we smile
with pristine teeth.
holy from scripture & alterations.
• ⁃ cavity. 04/16, 22:04.
held in the melodramatic
arc by my throat, my face so
hideous. foreseeing God
to kiss my lips & release the crowd
into allay. my pride subsides
with the decrescendo. my
fingers numb & fall away
at His ruach, at His glare.
the crows sits still. my eyes
glaze over, now i stare
into the face of the carnal.
their nose is bleeding & the
warmth from my parted
lips is leaving.
He is leaning into me.
matching our mouths,
leaving His teeth.
- mitat neshika. (02/11, 13:04)