Because death could not be beaten
I beat death at its own game
A conversation at the top of the stairs
In the middle of the night
With a figment of the response
To 20th century devastation
Personified as a humble pastor
Saying there’s been a lot of death going on
But what if we beat death at its own game
And that was when my brain knew
Though still addled with delusions
Of seroquel and catatonia
That despite the fact that I was the cause
Of everyone around the world dying
God was saving every single soul
In a million tiny bubble acts of stealth
That nothing can separate us
Even a burrowing tunnel leading to the glow
Of a television snake eating its own tail
From the love that shuts our eyes in sleep
At the end of a long naked journey
That can only bring us back to where
We started in silence and ended smiling whole
Like this:
Like Loading...
