God
I closed my eyes to pray at night.
Like I could only find him in my imagination,
And closed lids were the secret to a successful dial.
I don’t think I ever got through.
Closing my eyes at night,
Hitting the busy tone,
Until the shadow of the light,
Came seeping over stained carpet from that time where I turned my head,
Like an exorcism and released all over the floor,
Not quick enough to get out of bed.
Stains that would never let up.
Like that busy signal on the other end,
With no menu of options,
Until the day came,
And I decided I couldn’t pretend.
There is a sense of freedom that comes,
When you stop begging for signs of someone that isn’t listening.
There is a sense of freedom that comes,
When you recognize that all the signs there are,
You placed with your own two hands.
Like when death was near,
And you put it up to your face to take a whiff,
And inhale what...