i have grown flowers out of the marrow of my bones
i have harbored seeds from the blood that flows
i have created skies from the pain in my eyes
and i do it all for you,
my wildflower

On the seventh day
I hear
Thunderous silence
Of everything wrong

God decided to rest
And so he created
A barren, quiet day
Made for me to ponder

With silent birds
And noisy trees
I wish he didn't rest
Because now I can't

Sunday breakfast
I wish coffee was enough.