the sculptor
the sculptor  

I dream of you
sculpting this perfect plain shape,
my idealized, idolized counterfeit,
a pacified, passive offering.

I dream you see
jesus is judas, trying to redeem,
no more sacred, just scared,
but firm as you carve
through denials and schemes.

I dream of judas awaking
with a blessed erection  
as you´re scratching the paint,
force the figure to bleed
and purple streams prove
that a part of him still can run free,
while judas hangs on to beliefs,
reciting he needs some forgiveness
to be released.

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