We who shuffle seamlessly along history's ****** banks,
And think our lives are pointful, filled up with meaning,
Yet believe prayers are unanswered, and demeaning,
But if they're not, could never offer thanks,
Can feel the horrors we have created just beneath our skin;
Writhing, contorting, causing trembles in our hands,
Over nothing so petty as what some god claims is sin,
And won't be washed clean by the hourglass's sands.

I am strongly convinced that, even if I can
(By some miracle), be absolved by God's forgiveness,
That He has absolutely no **** right to do this,
To steal that from me, and to change what I am.

I want to write
a poem - the most
remarkable poem
I've ever written.

The one that blows up
mountains into pebbles
I can pick up and throw.

The one I can fan
from spark to inferno,
burning through
useless to pointful.

If I write this poem,
keep it out on my wall
I will be reminded
that the only way to
get my power back
is to take it.

I just wrote
a remarkable poem.

i wish i had perfect explanations,
not just perfect as in,
perfect for what i want to say
but also for what you want to hear.

because i'm not perfect ---
neither are you,
and we will never be perfect.

but we can make funny noises
at each other. i'll catch you
humming a tune and join you.

we can have laughs about
my clumsiness and
your stretchy dress pants.

we can have coffee
at the kitchen table
as we small talk about
clutter and junk,
or deep talk about
the way we just
can't get enough.

we can have arguments
that are sometimes
both pointless
or pointful,
or even both at the same time.

we can also have kissing sprees
that last hours, wet ones,
long ones, short ones,
and french ones
to make up for those
arguments.

we can have raw
and real.

we can have each
other, us, the glory,
the pain, and
maybe even
love.