"I'm sorry for being imperfect...I was born this way...there's nothing I can do about it but it doesn't matter cause i'm perfect in God's eyes."

i recall the perfect sounding pinpoint on a map
a theme park and a wonderful family
the aching cavities of cotton candy
a rollercoaster in the gut
and a mother who cares too much
and the problem of being a child who is always
fading out and pulsing with the lust of being almost free
running towards the exit eternally

and i remember jesus in the golden plastic picture frame
the silicone watches your daughters wore
and the pieces of polly pockets wedged into the carpeting
you blushed when i told my mother i found a tick on my arm
after playing dress up in your daughter's room
not everything holy is blessed
not everything unsaid is innocent
the sun and god are no better than a shepard