I used to know to whom I prayed, and
Advised across the great abyss what
Needed to be done here.
We’d gather in groups, cohorts,
To add weight and volume.
You love us all you strange mystery.
The box tickers, the list makers, the
Worriers, fretters and god shrinkers.
It appalls me, your even-handedness, your
You come with us on our self-inflicted calvaries.
We just take you, you can’t not.
You do not flinch when we shred your advice
And throw it in your bride groom face.
But there are two things I see.
There is no abyss oh God.
I can’t get away from you, and this near love both
Proves my guilt and annhilates it at the same time.
There is nothing left to say, except