Devil's roll the dice,
playing a card game meant for three
I sit a cross from them
playing cards, idly.

When asked why I lay in Hell,
I pause and stare at thee,
and ask you back
"Where else can I lie?
trying to imbibe,
the devil's game
is where I want to be."

There are 1,000 sorrows
between the front gate
and the back door.

They each have a name,
the same way
each fiber of a carpet
and each grain in wood
have a purpose.

I introduce myself to them
and introduce them
to their matching
1,000 joys

and watch
as the world
is born

The shadows on my walls at night
with their inky flowy forms
create words from lack of light
and their presence, I do mourn.

For the sun is an ugly thing
when you are a shadow, to be scorned.
My window filled with magic
the shadows; nevermore

I look at her
and see
the beginnings of
myself,
and is that not something
worth celebrating?

Bathe me in the sin
of communion wine on a Wednesday
and break the holy bread,
leave its crumbs on the floor.

I wipe my face
with grubby hands
and pretend it is you
who is caring for me.

But if there is no God,
who will I be angry at?