/An inspiration from my 8 ft. tall painting of Jesus on my bedroom wall, which my cats never scratched once./

When I stare at God-

I bloom like an open wound,

A flower of flesh begging for daylight-

Whichever makes a corpse feel special.

I chew the words out of my fingers

on a dying phone- a blue gate of baptism.

When I stare at God-

My tongue wags at my mouth walls,

Yet they never licked the air-

They graze every teeth,

Until the taste of metal-

Visits every billion buds-

And they bloom,

And they flower,

into words-

Like flowers of flesh begging to be picked and be called...

Beautiful.