What am I to create with my dead time?
Progressive sober caricature, surely
The shape of sin
Easy escape route
Creative thief
My nails chip as I scratch at your obsidian
Tomorrow was another day
Chemical death of my imagination
I can feel you dragged out for years to come
Hallucinated truth
The bird and its perch
If God is good,
God could be better
Befriending the flies
That kept me company and comfort
Through this monastic silence
Twenty-four hour life spans
And I can't help but weep for their husks
I want so badly to love your Jesus Christ
The slingshot orgasm that shock rockets
Through the blacked-out night
Waking up vulnerable
And wanting to give my whole body to something else
Chemical death of my imagination
I can feel you dragged out for years to come
Hallucinated truth
The worm and its dirt
Never not nothing
No!
