Sunday, June 8


sickly
see pale face
a sad state
sickly pallor
empty plate

hear a song
and aaron surely
can take you back
to where doug left
by cursing a friend
killing a brother
oh

so what takes you down
so sickly

Thursday, June 5


I'll be the last thing on your mind
makeshift bliss
in headlong trip
numb to all the tenderness
severed nerves
so unperturbed
stinging bees across bodies
never even feeling this

failures...
breaking nails on the prison wall
while counting down another three
holding head down low beneath hands.
beneath feet, the dust that makes me.

this is now your conscience burning
watching me pull hair, pull teeth
grow feet, but get cut down again
by the miming act that has me convinced
that I am chained and still walled in
and the dust is rising around me like a sinking sand

Oh God You must speak to me
after today I am probably the last thing on your mind
yet You love me in spite of being convinced of
what You said to Yourself upon that cross:
"I'll be the last thing on your mind"

Lord, I don't want to make you secondary to these cravings

Wednesday, June 4


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