i have never believed in god,
the bible is a series of stanzas,
which i could never translate into meaning.

it is poetry which never made my spine tremble,
usually i can feel when words piece together the fragments of my heart,
like tectonic plates making love underneath the earth's sheets.

and if it doesn't remind me that my body is not just an instrument for respiration,
it is not poetry to me.

if it does not remind me of the first time someone made a church out of my lips,
or the last time someone threw rocks at the stained glass windows of my soul.

if it does not replicate the sensation of falling to my death,
and then being resurrected
as the feeling of adrenaline baptizes my body.

i don't want to hear it.
somehow the prophets have only reminded me of the home where my childhood is buried in the backyard.
a breeding space for loneliness.

i have always wished on stars,
and prayed to the moon,
because at least for eight hours of the day,  i can see them.

at least i know they're actually there,
my life has been a series of conversations with walls,
i've been on hold for twenty years.

this life has showed me enough of building walls,
and how to make graveyards
and abandoned buildings out of my own bones.

i've spent enough time sipping wine,
and breaking apart my insides,
and somehow still making it look like a celebration,
isn't that what people do at church anyway?

instead i construct stanzas out of my pain,
i architect the universe into a church because
rain and holy water taste the same to me,
except the rain does not taste like my ex-lovers lies burning the back of my throat.

i refuse to let more strangers into my life,
just to remind me that my voice has never been loud enough,
that a scream is just a sound when no one is listening.

what kind of god sacrifices his own son,
my father sacrificed his daughter's sanity for the bottle,
and there isn't a scripture
that can make that story hurt any less.

there isn't a god that can precipitate the salt from my wounds,
but the moon is a streetlight in a darkened alleyway,
it is a lighthouse in a turbulent sea of sorrow.

so yes i worship the stars.
because all these years they still remind me that,
there is beauty in burning,
that i do not have to wait around to be saved,

and the moon is the only god i will ever need because
it reminds me that i have already saved myself,
every day.

Trudging through the seconds
With my shoulders slumped,
I leave footprints behind
For the rampant wind
To consume all traces.

I see faces
Some in despair
Some in exasperation
Faces Like mine
Scrunching into the distant
For something other than sand

Had I closed my eyes
And straightened the frown
I'd have seen shimmering stars
Stretching to infinity,
The glowing moon
And its concave smile,
Fierce orange and serene blue
etching the legacy of hope
Into all the lost souls.

They are waiting.
Maybe I will.

I am already dead,
just too lazy
and apathetic
to make it official.

Bonds of paper pressed and folded
Bringing with it such paper planes accurate
Dipped quills, ink splattered across the white ream
Lanterns lighting, defeaning silence of the whispers of the wind's realm.

Entrusting aflame candles, flewn for enlightenment,
Trembling with the breeze's whistling accompaniment,
White as newborn clouds, creased lines across it's edges,
Books pilled up with history and insights, torn pages.

Storms swirling ever so swiftly,
Drifting folding paper dancing to the wind gracefully,
Following the rhythm of the hurricane,
Remaining resilientㅡ free from stabbing pain.

Tint overflowing each ream precisely,
Tainted with dreams crafted so idly,
A little push, realising grip,
A wish fleeting away, once one to keep.

And I'll stay here
'til I'm found;
I won't fear,
keeping a steady ground.
Your laughs I will hear,
with me liking how you sound.
Soon, please be near
if to me you'll be bound.

here we find a girl reversed -
a girl who comes alive at night
and is afraid of the lonely day
    "you need to sleep," they'll say
    "i need to rest," she'll say
and they won't understand the difference.

here we find a girl inside-out -
a girl who can handle the whole world
but is terrified of handling herself
    her mind her worst enemy
    her people her safe haven
and she'll forever be searching for a home that isn't haunted by her own reflection.

here we find the girl
    the open ended question
    the heart with the vacancy sign in neon
    the bouquet of optimism put out for everyone to see

here we found the girl
and here we lost her
    right here, i think