the sword that kills
the sword that kills you
is the sword that saves
god appears as a gush of spring water
from the soil
born into a story
that presupposes
an undetectable deity
and a myth of damnation
I’ve heard there are
no atheists in hellholes
but every day
one is born there
you live with your head an awful long time
i
you live with your head
an awful long time
in a sea of pure bones
pulled under waves
where the sea is entangled
with the grave
and the last tree
in a cleared field
hell is hell
something below the surface
you want to touch
but can’t handle
don’t fell that last tree
the faeries that live in there
will come for you
ii
I don’t know anything about that,
butterfly—
but by the power of being wind
you live with your head
an awful long time
and sometimes you just
get bored
when you get
to talking to yourself
and worrying
and rejecting
and arguing
with people who aren’t there
and you can’t relax, ever
troubled by voices
also known as “mind dictation”
this misshapen gut is mine
this misshapen word is mine
this misshapen mind
all mine, this is all I have–
Blind in one ear
deaf in one eye
because you know
when you lead with your best intentions
you are still stuck with yourself
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