Confessional #8

I have not
all the words
of God; nor
have I constructed
my appeal.

Court rules heavy.

My appeal,
to be united
with my beloved;
and to conjoin.

We twins,

I am lost,
in the catacomb,
with the dead.

No light shines here,
only the dim beating
of my heart.

And I appeal,
with sentence
just, and swift,
that my thoughts
may turn into
projections on the walls;
and I may be released
from this little hell.

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