21 Oct. 12 // 6:00pm poem

There was too much blood for me to really know different so

Each autopitch tune telling me in time that it was time to go

Go to where? It didn’t matter anywhere, leave the Levant and Oh!

Go, go, go! Get out of here! We don’t want you anymore, Weirdo!

At first I wasn’t sure, they told me it was just depression, cutting

Ties to who I was, cutting with any object at hand, bludgeoning, gutting

Shaking like an epileptic, all the while against the bonds I was rutting

This was what I was: the wide-eyed madman, every vein jutting

Won’t someone just kill me already

“Where was your god in all of this?” Reason asks me with his spouse at night

“Yes, if you were everything they said you were, why did it never feel right?”

“Logic, you soft and feminine wife, your face is so familiar in this light

Tell me, will you leave your husband too? Are you shackled with fright?”

There was so much blood, too much blood, I mumble in lullaby

Push my teeth back into place with my tongue, or at least try

And then I wake, with the dawning sun, with all the lies I can apply

This is not how we behave, leaving one another on Moriah to die

Won’t someone righteous kill me already

They said Jesus was wounded and bruised for this kind of thing

That I didn’t have to live this way with the experience it would bring

But in all these moons and raindrops, that’s just untrue, darling

Jesus was abandoned just like the ring; only Moriah, yes Moriah is king

Does that even make sense, the riddle and rhyme?

It seems so mercurial now – is that the church chime?

I am distracted, so tell me prophet quick, what is the time?

Only first let me say this: Speaking God’s Name was ever your crime

Won’t someone holy just kill me already

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