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