Epistle Iii - Wishfully Sinking

(I) I am the vessel of flesh the libertine lecher heaped in the ash of Mosaic burnt offerings I search for a lifeline with both eyes entombed, wishfully sinking in my antediluvian covenant (II) I am the fumbling fool whose wiry, pale porcelain hands drop the half-empty chalice freckling the fractured Basilica floor with sanded scarlet silica a penitent reflection of my own self-contained fissures (III) I am the universe muzzled by my mechanical singularity, immobilized by darts dripping in dopamine-laced toxicity puckering my neuroplastic wiring into a slipknot swaying like a pendulum brushing the edges of the straight-jacket holding me back from rekindling the sparks of self-destruction