A voice in the dusk, a hollowing sort of sacrifice. We bring our love to the altar and dance around the sin. Why does absolution bring us to our knees? If our blood swallows the dust, will the earth still claim us as her own? We want to be the light, so we pluck the stars from the sky and put them in our mouths. We want to be the light, so we pull our teeth into crooked constellations. Are we holy yet? Are we forgiven? We push against the gods— and our holy war begins. We want them to notice us, we want them to hear the prayers flooding out of our mouths but they are not pushing back. Is anyone listening? Is anyone screaming with us?
Emily Palermo, Dignity Dances in Our Throats (via starredsoul)















