Monday, January 7, 2013


What to say or
who to love or why I
trust the
god above he fed me
corn mash chunks of
fat he
hid his son inside
my hat he
boiled his entire
and called them fragile sinners
food he cared for
broken winged birds he
cut his heart up into
thirds he
took he takes all his
supply he
cannot will not never
die he
in his holy vision god
is god of god of god of
god he
owns my flesh my
bitter steel he feeds me
crust and crumb and
heel he feels he feels


like everything that's
earthly real he
spins me for days in my
bed like seasickness is
itself my head he is
stomach he is
great he
eats what I leave
on my plate he
is my father he
this universe he
is this
masculine fuck he
ruins woman somehow
keeping her under
under table and
sucking sucking his
emptiness and keeping
his hunger under
the table where
his evil sleeps under
the table where
the dogs fight for bones under
the table where some infant
is a boy god in training smashing
playtoys like soldiers in
hate sickness and
what thing is this what
table have we set what
meal must we eat or have
we been served what
year is this what
orbit am I in what
gravity that
gravity is this love of
christ god what plane even
is this then that I
feel everything every

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