Stop This

Oh! my fluttering bird, stop this.
You've been flapping a long time in my skull,
Why did you put your wings to wake from the lull?
I sense, the roar of a thousand storms inside,
Rising from deep within to the surface, never to subside.
And your beaks, piercing between my brows,
As if hit by an archer's sharp iron arrows.

At times you spread your wings across my chest,
The bones of my ribs shaping your delicate feathers,
Your tiny little head looking up through Adam's apple -
Resting as the crucified Christ Himself.
Just to split my chest open and drink,
The unceasing nectar of the unabound space - And
To rest in the lap of immeasurable eternity.

Stop this, you unmerciful sparrow.
Sucking life out my every marrow.
Your dreadly legs, gripping my navel,
An acute pain, as though, groins dig by a shovel.
My knees are trembling and calf failing to hold
My blood has frozen and body turned extremely cold
A death so wanting, for new regions to unfold.

Oh my fluttering bird...