faith fermented to mossy vinegar

leaving me no course but to

foment a deity into the barren firmament.

give him weight, give him weightlessness, give him

enough fingers to plug the byways of my heart

give him me, give him my shape, give him something

i don’t hate

listful and lustless i count his innumerable angels

Our Lady Naproxen

the Wheel: Dissociation

Stuffed Animal Amulet who smells of self more than a mirror

Heating Pad/Lizard’s Grave

the Sky that calls you small but keeps you

from closing your eyes

the Holey Ghost of Loneliness, the worm-eaten tunnels in my brain

my coworker gave me a pair of shoes and said

that they will help my back

is this where god starts?