My eyes were clogged with sleep,

And my hair

Was bogged down with the shame of the past night


Entertaining some god


Who was someone else's.


Even mere words have that power to seduce.


I still say
"The year of the earth ox will be better."
Truly,
But it's nothing but weak to trawl for your answers.
Nothing but weak to delve into a book
Full of wishes and parables of another's life.


I don't want to think what I did
Spending the night with a god.

Pulling on the first robe to come to hand,
I think of you.
How I fight more than half the battle
But don't care.
The day that I'm happy, it won't come so easy.

No.

It'll come
With gagging and screaming and walkings away.
With acceptance or death hanging on each relationship.

I always swore to you I'd tell the truth
And I do, but that god whispers


"Don't let her leave you."



I woke up, so dirty,
In a puddle of somebody else's ideology.

But answers get boring,
Limiting,
Dumb.

Love is to mate and give birth.

Solitude is unhealthy.

Stories are not art,
And breakfast can't be mac and cheese.


Morality's a punch-out,
Free in the scripture of your choice,

All ready to be separated



And copied





And glued






And stapled

Into the fabric of your living bowel.