On a day like this, when voices are louder than the sound of trains on the train tracks
and peace is harder to find than attending to the imaginary impending doom of a Roman attack,
I look for a silent sanctuary,
and I hope to never get back.
It is silent when I come but I sit down and make my own noise.
It is noise that's always sounded better than my own voice
and noise that I've always welcomed during days of distress and comfort alike.
It is noise that blocks out reminders of a ticking clock
and a running time.
The sanctuary is not silent; it is noisy,
but it is noise that I will always welcome.

Rainbow-filled eyes and sin in my heart, watching girls and filling my head with fantasies. It doesn't drag me in straight lines, it takes wavy, wobbly steps. Girls, what pieces of art, so easy to indulge in. No bones and *****, just parts like mine, staring at faces all day, making no regrets. How unfair of God to disable other girls to see this kind of beauty, this kind of attraction. How unfair to have been given such a terrible gift instead of satisfaction at false limits. Desire, my security a liar, for attraction like this does not guarantee freedom from the wrong. Please, Lust, play nice with me. I don't want to have to cup girls' heads in my hands, smothering myself in all their tasteful smiles and tongues. Some would look in distaste, the disabled, the ungifted. Them and I, our uncommon views watch us battle over the love that has been hated since the beginning. Old policies, restrictions, forgotten over time, the rainbow rising after the spiteful thunderstorm.