Confessional #5

We were burning origami cranes,
you and I;
in the shelter beneath the rain,
all dry.

And I–

held mine out,
to a starless sky,
and rasped the name
of God,
I have hated
all my life.

But insincerity spills,
and topples the ranks,
of golden calves

Now the test of love,
now the opportunity for grace,
an endless storm of arrows
deep within the heart.

Rain pours,
you and I know
the sparks that we have ignited.
As we look
at one another
through the fire.

I pray the rain,
to make me sane,
and bring me home at last.

Confessional #4

In my gut;
in the core of my existence,
there breathes a child.

A child with tantrum,
a child with a greedy heart;
but there’s another voice,

The quiet clamor of decay.

Her heart breaks,
and mine is a mask
of insincerity,
debris coddles
and comforts
the hollow shell
that once was me.

I am done decorating the walls.


your life is mine,
spent in the catacomb of your womb.

Before I spill out
into endless degeneration,
let me linger longer
in the daze of this eternal sunlit sky.

Confessional #3

I’m in a towel,
after a quick shower,
at 4:30am,
thinking about you.

My thoughts of you?

They run wild and uncontrollable.

From a simple word’s
into much deeper
forms of merging
minds, bodies, and souls.

It is not sexual.
It is sexual.
It is not harmonic.
It is harmonic.
It is not devout.
It is devout.

It’s not the matter between two people’s blood that frightens me, but the escape of the soul from its headlong path towards God.

Confessional #2

my plural exhibitionisms,
planned persecutions.

Ego’s concentric rings;
and species’ flare.

Harbinger of confinement.

Your flags set sail,
and wishing upon me
no other form of punishment.

I cry to you:
Please await the diligence of heart,
the changing scepter,
passing from one hand
into another’s.

That my motives made manifest
could congeal and percolate
for Your blessed word.

of the sword
of truth,

Truth and Power and Glory.

Confessional #1

I wrote my death,
and upon its wings,
I flew into the darkness,
it carried me
beyond this world
into another.

And yet You seize my body as it passes,
and dilate my eyes.

Here, in the stasis of my life’s closing argument,
You call to me through the split in space and time,
and corrupt my peace, and make me blind.


Ties between the self
and another contained isolated spore.
My echo of laughter and of lust,
desire’s burning heart;

You walk through my garden,
and see the mess I’ve made;
since that point of origin
of space and time,
when all things were divine.