"I'm sorry for being imperfect...I was born this way...there's nothing I can do about it but it doesn't matter cause i'm perfect in God's eyes."
i recall the perfect sounding pinpoint on a map a theme park and a wonderful family the aching cavities of cotton candy a rollercoaster in the gut and a mother who cares too much and the problem of being a child who is always fading out and pulsing with the lust of being almost free running towards the exit eternally
and i remember jesus in the golden plastic picture frame the silicone watches your daughters wore and the pieces of polly pockets wedged into the carpeting you blushed when i told my mother i found a tick on my arm after playing dress up in your daughter's room not everything holy is blessed not everything unsaid is innocent the sun and god are no better than a shepard