Holy Meatsuite

To truly bloom we must dust off our own holy books,

our bodies

For written within our blood and bones

is a sacred text more precious than any parchment

And more profound than any inscription

And so we swear not a bound stack of paper

But on our living breathing musky bodies

 

Will you swear with me sisters, to grow the joy and freedom of this world with your precious, putrid and bodacious bod?

 

Put your hands on your buds (testicle, chestical, codpiece and cunny)

Repeat these Words:

"I swear on my body,

my ever-changing blood bag

My  mighty, mighty meat-suit

My chrysalis of transformation

My motherlode of information

That I will root, shoot, and thrive

Through cinderblocks that surround me

Into gnarly, potent fecundity"

-- W.C. Coombe