faith, and its burning

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,

i,

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.

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