Two generations sit aligned,
In the home of the Eternal Father.
The people all pray for the cleansing of sins,
While I neglect to even bother.
I see the passion within their eyes,
As they steadily walk the line.
Cross thy arms or cup thy hands,
To receive the bread and wine.
Through the motions I pace myself,
For my faith has disappeared.
The prayers in-scripted inside my mind,
Revive memories I immensely fear.

It is not just I,
Who's connection will never restore.
But applies to the woman who gave me life,
Our beings have transformed.
“The Lord” no longer shepherd's us,
Beyond our wants and fears.
So when it comes time to bow our heads,
In deep cognition we will appear.

03/14/10

My hands are shrinking
my body grows smaller
you are filling every pore
replacing all the elements
with you.

it is not always with me, this burden.  its balefire that is my brother’s body.  I am without him and I am without his power.  I introduce him as my twin, identical, whose power is to disappear when I’m around.  it is like failing to impress you with a metaphor for metaphor.  I am loneliest when it’s not allowed.  imagine being on the same side as metaphor.  a man in pain calls you from a payphone and speaks instead on the joys of a predicted parallelism.  in pain like no other only because pain is treated with a redundancy.  in John like no other.  pain is unlike pain.  a baby is a man’s son and this baby of this man lived three days in a body blessed more and more with lesions like black treetops over which the man could only hover.  I am as angry as any shell company employee.  I have a belief in being Jesus and teaching myself to walk on water

on my hands.  you believe in my brother.  I write him letters when my power is to read.

A buzzing noise all around,
making it weary for me to get rest.
This constant pestering sound,
riles me up.
Visually spotting the black fly,
I try to ignore it.
The more I push it away,
the more noise it makes.
Not being clear enough,
I must **** it.
Unable to be aware of its demise,
the fly continues to circle.
Throughout the room,
I chase it away.
But it always comes back,
for even more.
I name this fly Richard,
because it seems to be relentless.
Just like him.