He was generous he was sweet
He fed us well, we were meat

Yet somehow as others hobbled towards his call
To feed, to fatten, to round, to fall

I saw myself getting sick and more frail
I felt death near, I felt pale

I saw the colors of existence washing away like dirt in a shower
I saw Him as he was, generous with the meat yet not generous with His power

Thus this was the curse of His light
Blinded by sight, to feel no hunger for mortal appetite

To see no color and to feel no taste
To write words hoping to capture them before they leave you with haunting haste

These words I write so well they feel a potion of love, yet in a jar unreachable
They seem so clear and so sweet, yet so painfully unteachable

I read his words in order to gain flavor, to gain clarity 
I saw him how he was, through all his lust for vanity

He was generous with the damnations and generous with the gifts,
He was generous with the wasps as well, to all those inquisitive misfits,

As teeth bit down on tongue
In the soul a thousand year old bell was rung

To hurt Him was to hurt me, no wonder I always craved pain
To love him was to love me, no wonder why all my cupids rest in Graves

He was generous to me as well, Now now that much is true
He was generous with the words,generous with the epiphanies,
Generous with so many somethings that gave me much to rue