two queers on a mattress:
one with a fever,
one with a never ending fever for absolution.
both rebuked by some followers of God in their own respect,
rebuked by the promise of a welcoming brightly lit ether —
that even ketamine can’t recreate.
one is more optimistic even as he is burning up, being raised in a more welcoming sect
i am glad we met.
while I, bittered by the exclusion of my own baptism and the idea of suffering as existence
rebuke the almighty Lord in jest when I wish to know Him so well
or to know the being that has created me as a vessel. well,
wish i could pray without pain or embarrassment.
i sometimes wish i wasn’t a faggot.
but i am somewhat proud of me,
for maybe i am righteous for an act of kindness in the form of 600mg of over the counter pain relief and hot tea
i wish i had more spirituality.
i wish i didn’t learn that existence was suffering,
i wish i could say my favorite songs were about God,
and when you showed me that musical man that night i was so at peace.
and i thought of the song that has a prayer for me…
assuring me it’s alright because i feel like i’m not good enough,
and i say sorry way too much.