bouncing prayers off the living
my boyfriend asks me if i have religion,
i tell him that i offered prayers to the wind
in hopes of one day growing whole
but being whole isn’t about god
it’s about finding the strength to love yourself
because the bible belt has instilled
the fear of angels in your heart
he tells me that our beliefs make us people
give us our traditions and the manners
to live with one another
but i have yet to feel human inside
i have yet to feel my heart beat like the next guys
my coworkers ask me if i go to church
i keep my head down
say no
my insides feel
like burning scriptures
in the trashcan
that’s infringing
on their rights
and i’m not human
enough to protest their beliefs
i bounce poems off skulls
at the poetry show
but poetry isn’t strong enough
to keep the audience awake
they’re fading in the seats,
i tell myself social media is an outlet
until i see the thick skin devils inking
facebook with misguided hatred
towards immigrants and other gods
pray for america because she needs it,
splattered all across the blue and white screen,
but prayers eventually fall through,
the country’s backbone is giving out,
i am tired of your gods and your offerings
i can’t look at other people
they’ll pray for me,
the bondage that keeps my sanity at bay
how many of them have a bullet to give away
they grow tired of the conversion process?
my boyfriend tells me i should find a god
all i can think of is reimagining myself
every time i die
there’s beauty in destruction
before you’re reborn
he rests easily nowadays
i’ve forgotten where he mails his prayers
i often dream of what it is like
to simply live without the spirits
tagging alongside you
Weasel is a degenerate writer who received his Bachelor of Arts in Literature at the University of Houston-Clear Lake. He currently uses it as scrap paper to fuel his two publishing imprints Weasel Press and Red Ferret Press.