Here is the place
I start crying.
Where I kneel in false worship
Before puking, at the temple door.
Where I beckon to the ****** who run
Back to the congregation.
So, I drink to satisfy
My own unrealized faith.
I ***** mornings because no one said,
I love you.
Then it is not my fault, I say to the laughing mice
To the flies buzzing in my face
In this is the place,
Down by the culvert,
In three inches of chilly water;
Here is the place I start praying.
Knowing there will be no answer but death
Or the sun.
Knowing, I can listen because I have done it
Twelve hundred times before,
Every day of my life,
That I listen, but never learn
Like the child who
Was deaf and lived among the wolves.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
Here is the place
I start crying.
Where I kneel in false worship
Before puking, at the temple door.
Where I beckon to the ****** who run
Back to the congregation.
So, I drink to satisfy
My own unrealized faith.
I ***** mornings because no one said,
I love you.
Then it is not my fault, I say to the laughing mice
To the flies buzzing in my face
In this is the place,
Down by the culvert,
In three inches of chilly water;
Here is the place I start praying.
Knowing there will be no answer but death
Or the sun.
Knowing, I can listen because I have done it
Twelve hundred times before,
Every day of my life,
That I listen, but never learn
Like the child who
Was deaf and lived among the wolves.
