Sunday and
The dogs are at
Mothers

Cedar floors are silent
Serenity churns with isolation
As a thin fingered fog
Toys with my
Eggshell colored
Window curtain

A brain is a burden
And a gift
Mines neither
Mines a tool

A tool for an elusive being
Let's call her: Angel
Demon
God's right hand
Gabriel's spear
Mose's sandals
The Devil Wears Nothing

Consciously and not,
I go in waves of
Liking myself, my brain

For I tend to hold malevolence
Towards something
I cannot control fully

Take, for example, these keys
This screen
These rules
Our hierarchy of narrative
Plot, character, dialogue, and tension.

Catharsis.

Have you ever seen a water spout?
I have.
It's kind of like that.

Some days,
I feel the holy unbridled, transference
Of The God's goodwill

Others,
Simply silence.

I've yet to decide
When
           I'm
                Happier