Well
I was living fast and loose,
but clung like moss to a
morning tree

Look at me and see the reprobate
suffocate on false promises.

and him that died upon yon cross,
lied,
but do you give toss?

No you don't and yet you won't
cut me an inch of slack.

Going back is easy for me and so
I'll make it hard and go on,
forwards to what every history
desires of me,

the prodigal
prostituting hopeful remedies
against this life and its maladies.

The malefactor factors in and
we all know that's a fukin sin
to do and be pariahs of society.

I can and will wake up to apples on
my window sill and Sawyer catapulting
praise across my breaths,
so many ways to read and understand
and what requires is us to
take a moment, breathe deep
and let
sleeping dogs do what they do best
count to ten
then exhale.