“I would pin you down
like a father does
and have my way with you
whether you like it or not,
and I’m not going to stop
until I’m empty inside.”
I can’t see the landscape anymore.
It’s all obscured in my grief.
You have Jesus on your breath,
And He dances in my lies.
Pink serpents brawl to the death,
A sensation so divine.
Lovely intermission of a loner’s descent.
You have faith that I’m giving you what you want,
A faith misplaced keeping this addiction satisfied,
I pull away to prevent
Sin to be committed
On these many acres of longing.
To spare you a visit to the landscape,
Trekking through mountains of tenderness,
This drunken stupor in the Garden
Is not enough to not care,
To not make you tainted
By the landscape I painted.