I’m covered in dirt,
  but my words are still clean

A vision half dried
  with stains running deep

With sinners and saints
  arm in arm at the bar

Each infection we share
  tonight’s hookup and score

Meaningless excuses
  all scandal affirmed

My bed made with sheets
  from a brothel once scorned

As I lie in the shadows
  with my soul partly damp
  
My words are set free
   —to the heavens restamped

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)