I looked up at you and thought
"wow, there is something to behold."
I poured libations of sweet milk and honey,
Listened with glowing eyes as you sang your words,
And I made my sacrifices by shining embers.

I smiled for Truth.
I smiled for good-heartedness.
I smiled in reverence for the idol before me.

The clever thing about faith
Is that it is whatever you need it to be.
When those shining embers crumbled into ash, I didn't cling to their fading warmth.
No - I realized the faith that I had been missing all along.

And when that idol came back to me
looking for sweet milk and honey,
I smiled,
For he will get no more sacrifice from me.
No - I alone will coat my lips in honey,
And I alone will hear my song.

And the idol, bespoiled of his worship, cried out.
"You cannot disobey me,"
He roared,
stripped of his dazzling charm.

I've never been good with words
Each thought is from lyrics heard
Losing myself in every piece
Till they all become a part of me
Or am I these things I've never written?
Only ideas that stir from somewhere hidden


Inside my own head, trapped, as my mouth works silently
Trying to speak, violently


I wonder what it's like to be somebody else
How hard is it to think for one's self?
I'm back at this familiar place
Yet nothing ever feels the same
Nothing ever feels the same


Have I just become you?
I've idolized everything you do
Every syllable you sing,
From the sound of your voice to your eyes shining.
My obsession is me
My obsession is me

And I must say,
It feels so good to be so lost.

There are celebrities who people idolize.
They may not know it but it's wrong in God's eyes.
Jehovah God is the only one who deserves to be idolized.
This may anger some people and some may be surprised.
It's okay for people to respect celebrities and to be their fans.
But we should idolize only God and never any woman or man.
We shouldn't idolize people because it's a terrible sin.
If you idolize somebody, please let it come to an end.

love,
for me /
is where it starts /
it grows from there /
or it benjamin buttons its way down /
to a lukewarm spark

i begin my descent /
upon the first hello /
upon the first charming smile /
i fall
and fall
and fall

there is no hollywood slow motion /
it is not head over heels /
it is skull crushed into pavement /
i kiss my own ankles

everyone says /
you can't possibly love someone /
as quickly as i can /
and if you beat the odds, somehow /
you can't possibly love with /
the ferocity that i do

(i am a rare breed /
my passion is feared)

i love and love /
i continue to adore /
until my affections are too much /
until the object of my desires /
decides my devotion is suffocating /
and i understand /
it does not hurt any less --
it is bone crushing devastation, i have finally hit the ground --
but i understand /
why they come and go like the rain

i dive /
headfirst into love /
headfirst into heartache

cloudy eyes rain down,
salty raindrops wilt rosebuds

gazing upon
gardens of death,
i find that once
i look upon beauty,
i ruin it with love

perhaps i am a
flower cutter,
not a gardener

i found the most beautiful rose,
she was made from stardust;
her petals were
formed from skies
and lavender
with a hint of grey,
but i looked away

i couldn’t let
myself ruin this one

instead
i made a flowerbed,
with blankets of soil
tucked my tears in,
until blossoms bloomed

they were prettier than
roses made of the sky
or tulips from the sun

they were mine,
lillies from my heart

We enter the church and immediately
have to push through two dozen sobbing Italian women
dabbing dry eyes; their tissues only show
black and multi-colored smears. Amid the echoing
“Oh my Goawd”s, they lean down and kiss my sister’s cheeks,
but even in my best black cap sleeves, I am the taboo
to my cousin Janet, a woman as barren as the stone lot
in between her husband’s restaurant and Deihl’s Autoshop.

We find an empty pew, and watch as the men
stride down the aisle, contestants
in a cultural Miss America pageant where the wrong answer
gets you whacked. Their heavy brows
sink in condolence as they hand over stacks of bills,
every hundred becoming a pity penny
for all the moments Janet lost in her luxury-life
made shiny by diamonds and cars and fur coats
which can’t be cashed in for a second chance at a family.

The men have paid for the food, the china, the band
in the corner meant to fill the space of sadness—
a reminder that we live a lavish life.
My sister shifts in her seat and as a man walks
by she touches his jacket, and gasps.
He’s a god.

There is a pressure just behind my ribs
That crushes me, yet I cannot shake it
Unmovable. Untouchable. Incurable.
On my lungs and heart, the weight of it sits.

What does this pressure pull me to?
Why does it threaten me with death?
Unknown. Uncharted. Insatiable.
It will not move until I've taken my last breath.

This is what it is to yearn
What it is to grasp with the soul.
This is what it is to burn
To ignite as desperation takes hold.

I crave this thing I don't know
It pulls at me day and night
Like an addiction, I need it frequently
Lest the anxiety, the panic, should strike.

But it is not a thing, it is a person, in plural
So very far outside my league, urban versus rural
This is not even remotely healthy, but I can't turn
From day to night, from sun to moon, I yearn.