my sweet,
and save a few blessings for me.
I pray in tangled thoughts
and twisted beliefs.
I once thought I could make heaven
a liveable, breathable, tangible thing,
but my god and your god
are both fickle and crucified thoughts
—macabre lost
in the churning wind and the leaves
that kick up dirt in the eyes
of those who skim faithfully
ancient Hebrew text and lies.
When I am lost
chasing innumerable faiths
and parchment colored moons
who should guide my withered spirit
to proper light
—should I choose a proper faith
to steal away to my creative mind
and religious muse?
Spoiler! :
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