Ix Chel

They dressed violence in fertility

Painted mercy on the walls

Then fed women to the dark

And called it balance

Moonlit rooms reeking of iron

Midwives turned executioners

Hands that should have held life

Learned how to pry it open

They said suffering makes the soil holy

That blood teaches crops how to grow

Funny how gods always need

Someone else to fucking bleed

I stood where screams were archived

Not remembered—stored

Stone floors worn smooth

By knees that never stood back up

Creation and destruction

Same blade

Different excuse

You can hear it in the chants

How scared they were of choice

I don’t honor cycles

I break them

I don’t kneel to birth through death

I tear the altar apart

Until it can’t tell the difference anymore

Trinity studied this like a blueprint

Not a warning

Clipboard faith

Cold hands itching for repetition

I found the offerings stacked wrong

Too small

Too human

Too aware of what was coming

If pain is sacred here

Then this place deserves none

Let the moon look away

Let the jungle rot the memory clean

I won’t carry their prayers forward

I won’t translate their excuses

If a god needs corpses to function

Let it fucking starve

There’s no rebirth in this ruin

Only relief

When the knife finally drops

And no one pretends it’s love anymore