1/104: What I Wanted to Say When She Asked Me About God.
I want to sit on that mountain
I want to I'll fly away
I want to swing low, but instead
I get anxious in hollow sanctuaries where every whisper hits every wall,
but my sins?
They fall to the ground like dead birds.
Somehow I've lost god under his heavy cross -
I think the gospel of blood gets in my eyes and
I just can't see past the crusades.
2/104: I Can't Get my Cup
I am shaky, a tiny nicotine pill
with the nervous shits.
My bowels are flopping - a suffocating blue gill
burning in the sun.
uncertainty makes me feel like dad's drunk again
and dinner plates are being hurtled across the dining room.
Who's going to clean the walls this time?
Well, not Jesus. he never does.
(not my best, i'm aware - but i have a whole year --> here's to getting better!!)