Oceans of Blood

pin this deep center
where the dead men still bleed
there
where we sing
the heart-ached
back to sleep
with the good news
and there was a book
that said it was power
to save
in a sweet sweet
envelope of a whisper
tearing through your veins
to make nothing of me
and much of You
scarcely
i sit and wait
often
i sprint
for the ocean
of my own blood
thinking that
it will wash me
clean