My body is a temple and
on holidays, they prey.
"Come to the feast,"
An invitation to
forgive and forget
the sins and trespassings
of crucifixation.

The body and blood of
--oh Christ--
Taken by you, shed by me,
as this Holy wine saves us
from a judgment
between comforting beliefs
and cold, hard facts.

Love, Loss, Lust,
The divine Trinity that
brings us to our knees
in front of the altered;
Bliss-ed is he who comes
in the place of the Lord.

thankful for my angels
thankful for my demons
thankful for the battle occurring in my mind.
I'm thankful to have experienced the torture
and the pain.
I'm thankful for the bad and the good
but mainly the terrible.
for if it weren't for the terrible,
I would not be where I am today.
whether that's alive, or a writer.
either way, my heart continues to grow and learn from my past mistakes.
i am a flower,
who's petals are sure to bloom soon.

Be thankful for what you have
Because not everyone has a family in this thanksgiving holiday
So be thoughtful of others
Because this world has a short life and is so cold

And by that, I mean my Turkey Cheese *****

But for real, it can also **** my *****

That is, my Stuffing *****

But, on a serious note... it can **** my real, actual *****

Of course, I'm referring to my Oreo Cookie *****

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

its thanksgiving, two thousand fourteen
I listen to "Alices restaurant"
the full eighteen minutes and sixteen seconds, in remembrance
of how thankful I was to have a father, like you.

I will gormandize the feast that is she.
Body of bread and butter
No, more.. Earth-bound fingertips scatter under pressure of a diamond.
Skin soft to bear blood, how gruesome.
Thoughts all turned to coal.
Body turn water to wine
The snake's forked tongue stuttered over silence screams.
Venom which could resurrect Christ on knees.
Wasp stinging back of bird's neck.
Her soul found grapevine tangled in nests.
Body as cold as ice
She has fled on Poe's Raven's wings.
Soul displeased and assured and so scared to be.
Calling for her out that chamber window.
Hearing no "where art thou" in this distopia thy named garden.
Body removed from time.
Could it be indescribably so?
That a heart has breached that dark surface below.