He created the earth
the moon
the stars
and planets
Galaxies so big so complex
Even the most astute scientist would never fully comprehend it

The way we are so finely structured
A maslin of convoluted cells and atoms making up this human body
Others on occasions may sit at home think and sort of wonder
“could all of this earthly beauty happen by chance?”

For chance to be the cause of the art we see as life? Pause
No.
Please forgive me for my strife
For even the dirt underneath is everything but simple
The evidence of a perfect and powerful creator is all around
So this notion of chance does not sit right with me
And I have the right to disagree

It is because of Him our Heavenly father that all of this, all of us
Exist
He is the best artist I know
We are part of his magnificent creations as brought out in Revelations
So each day of my life is dedicated to no one else but him.
My father in the heavens
Jehovah God I am your witness.

Please, oh Lord, save me from this broken well.
The water is crashing,
And they keep pouring more and more.
The well is getting higher as each different person adds more to the death that was meant to give life.

Save me, because I believe that the well is growing because of the girl I've turned into.
While others think otherwise, I see myself as the monster I have become.
I've become a living hurricane,
Never constant.

It's at this point when I realize I need to be rescued.
Lord Jesus rescue me from this well,
That is drowning me with the sinful ways of this world,
Yet is still empty of beauty.
Save me. I need to be saved.

Last night I reached my hand out to the monster under my bed whose eyes usually glow scarlet and whose teeth typically gnash and snap but this time had the same deep brown eyes and average teeth that I do

Last night I pulled my skeleton out of the closet and we danced to the blue jazz that floated through my window from the sax player below and then we played never-have-I-ever and watched SciFi TV on Netflix

Last night I asked the mermaid down the bathtub drain if she'd like to come up for a swim and we laughed and splashed and sat on my roof in the star light talking about love and sushi recipes and where to get a really good haircut

Last night I called out to the werewolf who roams these parts as he called out to the silver globe of a moon and I gave him some salad because he's a vegetarian and he showed me pictures of his pet bunnies Morningglory and Killer

Last night I covered the mirrors and opened the shades for my vampiric friend Velma, a quiet girl who volunteers at the animal shelter and soup kitchen

Last night I said good night to my nocturnal friends and went back inside to turn off the lights and make sure my dog was inside who I call Albertius Rex but was previously known just as Cerberus

The things that
She asked for
She never got

But the things that
God gave her
Was all she ever needed

We write about two AM because it is simplicity and we are underexposed. Overtime, simplicity becomes complex and subjective and harder to define. Soon you associate two AM with her hair holding on desperately to her shoulder blades, but at that point it doesn't matter what time it is because all your brain understands is her mouth and how badly you want to kiss it. Everything is clinging to something: hair to skin, sheets to mattress, mouth to teeth; but the real fear lies in what will end up letting go and this is why we are born with out fists clenched, because from the moment we are living, every insecurity spills like air out of a bag you thought was vacuum sealed. See, life is full of complexities and we can't seem to find permanent serenity, but, in the midst of it all, there are small things that resonate within us and soon we collapse into a string of cliches and we fight not to drown within them, collectively babbling and trying to make sense of the concept of never letting go.

I AM SCARED
TO LOOK AT
MY NAKED BODY
IN THE MIRROR