Sell My Soul

by Chris Butler

Sell my soul
and strip my bones
bare,

because I’ll
just have to swallow
whole

any inanimate
object or animistic
stone,

some sustenance
for my invisible iron
core,

to feel full-filled
of immaterial matter,
alone,

of this essentially
senseless essence,
absent,

lost in limitless
limbo of inseparable
selflessness
and unsubstantiated
substance,

while I am too
busy being a human
being,

breathing dust
into stuffed nostrils,
bleeding,

because I don’t
need it no more.