jesus left me a
gun under the
table.
he didn't remember
to leave a note telling
me what it's for, but
i think i'm smart
enough to put one
and two, together. (or
am i?):(i am).
it's about a week or so later
when momma tells me
'god ain't real' and rips
it from my hands but
they still sh a ke and
reach for love that isn't
there. (in the spaces. the
c a b i n e t s ).
: i feel self-empowered at
the thought that maybe i
put it there - memory
evades me -- ***** me | high
until i'm low again. again. |
(it's all the same).
days pass and i find
it taped under my
desk but this time
with a **** note.
"to forget" it says. "from
someone who cares."
and i think
let's see if it'll actually
hurt so
mouth open
black berry sm ell s
taunt me into
relaxation, (am i in
p a r a d i s e ):::(i think
i am).
i know it's the love wrapping
its skeleton arms around
my body when i f a l l to
the
floor. || everything
is silent
on this
side.
**(c) 2014 jude rigor