Good Boy

Crisp lip poison,
can’t afford the ointment
2 dollars for anoinoment
just to understand it’s pointless,
no gayity for the deity
he doesn’t like expression
So purge all your records in the name of confession
Good boy


Love from a HeathenĀ 

I never spoke to your god,

Prayed, believed
Still don’t really
But I can feel a sense of something
Beyond myself
Not a spiritual being
More an energy,
A force
It’s the bubbling over of sound and feeling that penetrates a room of strangers
It subsists in the artistry of life,
The commonality of all of us
Beautiful projectiles
Launched into orbit around each other
It’s wild and random
and magnificently important
And I probably will never believe in your god
But this Sunday,
I choose to believe in you