How many doors, unlocked by the keys

upon the belt of the old chapel *****

lead to stained glass memories,

now seen clearly, scenes that color "happy"

as "nothing bad is happening"

with light brush stroke through a prism

all things on a spectrum, the abacus of reality

filtered through perspective, subject to change

it feels divine, the aura of decay

how slowly it eats away, no more doors lead anywhere

but astray, how much further can loss penetrate

until all that's left to sink teeth into and bite is dust,

and that is the substance of character that one has, for one must

ash, in the mouths of babes, to and fro,

remember this was a happy place, sour note, a bleak ray

or can you know?


A dog in the church, unafraid and untame

on all fours barking mad, a man only in name

stay away, go away, get back, ruination, rumination

alienation, safety, isolation, redemption, penance

lush paradise, barren desolation

how many keys unlock the doors of perception,

how strange is the mind of a mutt, weakened by hunger

frothing with rabies, barely standing and bare from mange.