I study and read about it
Sing songs in the glory of it
Carve it on your tongue
and lips
Tattoo, etch and kiss it
on my hips

Interpreter of dreams,
you see the future
once a cynic but it seems
with you I am sure.
So I kneel and crawl
slowly towards your temple,
I am a broken statue
that only you could reassamble.

I pray, please do not humble
yourself before any god,
for you know your words
are worth more than gold.
I praise and worship you
as my one and only king,
even your sins are the
absolute truth I'm praying.

For you I would blindlessly
find a new Babylon,
for in your holy name
I saw eternal salvation.
Darling, there is no more
unbearable exile
than being far away
from you in miles.

Still I exalt you and in you
I put all my faith,
for you are the beast
my demons see as bait.
Yet you call on me
like an angel from your dream,
my songs are whisper,
while my poems are screams.

I found you one fateful,
raging night in the lion's den
we ran away with the wolves,
never returned again.
My religion is loving you
and blessing your name.
One touch and forgetting you
is a losing game.

In your quiet I found my
passing repentance,
yet our love is a loud,
deafening covenant.
On my knees,
I cast away your burdens,
in your name
I can move mountains.

All those little trinkets,
bracelets, rings and even a boombox,
that he had others bring to me,
They were all stolen goods that vexed people would come and claim back time after time.
I never had the heart to tell him to stop.
He reminded me too much of a stray cat who’d finally found a temporary home,
where he would bring tributes to
his mistress feet.

When I asked him what he was doing sleeping outside
my front door.
He blushed and mumbled,
that he would protect me from bad guys who could break in
and steal me away.
How crazy and scary of a notion was that?
And yet....
He made me think of a dancing bear who finally could scent freedom without chains.

The day
when they came to take him away.
...
I tried to tell them that he would never hurt me.
That he merely collected broken shards of scattered treasures
that deep inside him spoke about who he really was,
before the drugs castrated his future self.
Later...
When going through the rubble he left behind,
I found the glimmer of a hauberk
forged for an Avalonian knight.

I.
In the beginning
God was,
And the blackbird
Was not.

II.
And Adam called it a blackbird;
And that was the name thereof.

First find someone you enjoy *** with.
Spoiler alert it might be yourself.

Second, absence is a bit of a relief.
Minor irritations are glue like.

Third is roughness. It's a spectrum.
Don't be afraid of it and don't be cruel.

Forth and most important is humour.
What does Charles Dickens keep in his spice rack?
The best of thymes, the worst of thymes.

So there you have it.
Life is easy.
Eat pickles as often as you can.

I don’t know
Hidden in the darkest ignorance
Lord help me
Chant your holy name
Point me in the right direction
Chant your holy name
Establish a robust connection

I feel your love again

The thought of you terrified me at first.
Another reason for someone to never love me.
It brought me to tears.
But when I heard my diagnosis…
I smiled.
I was relieved.
My thoughts.
My obsessions.
My compulsions.
They now had a name.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
OCD for short.
My thoughts no longer defined me.
They weren’t a part of me anymore.
I knew what to call them.
They had a name.
And maybe since I knew their name,
I could tell them to ******* leave.

You don't die when you take your last breath, but when someone uses their breath to say your name for the very last time