Saturday, September 12

Jabbing at a wound.

crying every day
there is a way
how could there ever be a way?

i can't see it
in my head
i don't believe it
in my heart
how could this thing ever be?

so i'm scratching my skin
jabbing at old wounds
with a bony finger
and i'm calloused
and the feelings

with every song i hear
on my bed, dear

and i'm pulling out my hair
jabbing at a wound
lost and spinning inside
my own sickening cocoon
blubbering tears
not hearing anymore.

taken too soon.


New Christians
so eager
so full of relief
so happy believing
what I cannot believe
so willing to change
all that which
has been written
in all the centuries
so quick to get
down on the floor
and kneel,
to feel that friendship
with Jesus
(it's not even
God anymore, He's
an embarrassment of
all that was old)
erupting from the fold,
new Christians
free from harassment
if we just don't ask
they seem so happy
so happy
with everything
decided for them
they jump joyously
and boisterous
out of the closest
out of the cloister
out of the pain
that made them
say His name
one night in the dark
when they were unsure
when they knew
it could never be for them
to sling that weight
over lonely shoulders
and start up the path
that leads
up the mountain
they put their heads
into that fountain
and proclaimed salvation
without even knowing
from what on earth
or beyond it it was
that they were trying to be saved.


Standing in place
For there is nowhere else I would want to
Or could possibly go
Out in space
I could float bloated and no one
Would possibly know
For a few days

I used to feel it in my bones like sorrow
I'll be back and better tomorrow
You see, life tells us little lies
To make us stick around
Keep us safe and sound,
From the hole that rapes the ground.

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