Can you even imagine the feeling of pride that must rise with the scent
and scatter on the wind through the hive mind,
when the order goes out so that everyone bites at the right time,
through a mind segmented like ant’s eyes,
when ants eat an anteater’s corpse?


Sometimes inaction is a thousand times more powerful than action.
A thousand times more difficult,
A thousand times more honest,
A thousand times more human.

Sometimes silence says a thousand times more than speech.
A thousand times more gentle,
A thousand times more fragile,
A thousand times more complete.

I love you more than words can ever say
I love you in a way that only silence says.

I don’t even try to deny the things that satan says to me,
don’t claim to be better than that.

I don’t identify with meaningless feelings that come and go randomly,
thoughts that rise to the surface like cream,
no matter how many times you beat your mind together
they rise up all the same, till they puff up white and swollen,
till they run over into your lap.

I don’t make my mind into a beautiful place anymore,
don’t participate in the war for my intentions. I don’t intend to use them anymore.
It’s a hoarder’s attic, my bedroom floor, neglected, like an addict’s stolen life.
When another dirty rag is added to a towering heap,
this merits no attention from me.
The deplorable state of my addled mind bores me.

But I hope you see that I don’t lie
when I say I
find my hope in you.
I don’t lie when I take communion, and come to you and
ask, not to use you, but to sow your sacraments into my soul
and reap some greater union with you.

Give me feelings that are not meaningless, if it is your will,
as I decide to be less faithless.
Make my mind into a beautiful place again, and restore my intentions.
You are my help. Amen.

I believe that you will do these things
I only hope that I’ll believe they’re blessings when they come.

A black bird singing on a black line
a broken back that begs to be set straight
a silent night of sin and niceness
nestled happily,
in bed, happy.
A black bird nesting on a telephone pole
tells his poor mother not to call
again, he’s doing fine. He’ll be alright.
Can’t even see him this black night,
this black bird, in this weak light,
can’t see right.
On this cracked streetlight can’t see right;
but somehow he’ll see his way home tonight.
Downbeat blackbird’s beaten down, but doesn’t dare to be
silent. Won’t stoop down to where he found
fortunes buried beneath the dirt,
won’t swoop down through the air
to the ground.
Silly bird sings noise songs.
Flutter through the air, fool bird
and land upon the ground.

I’m absolutely good enough for you

and you’re absolutely good enough for me.

You make me feel that way every time we’re together.

And that’s a way, way better love

than one that makes you feel like you’re not good enough.

I love you because of the incredible person you are

and I want to be with you because of the way you treat me.

Because I like getting to be nice to the person I love,

I like that I get to make you happy.

Because I want a partner to share my life with, not a rock to bash my head against.

Thank you.

Your kindness astonishes me every day.

Thank you.

The vanishing act’s up next
but the magician’s nowhere to be found.
He’s watching from the balcony.
He’s gonna stay put and make the world disappear.

The vanishing act’s up next
but this time Jesus has the upper hand.
There’s not a single cloud in this sky, which is to say
there’s not a single suicidal thought in my mind.
Oh death, where is your sting?
I’m not gonna listen to satan anymore.

The vanishing act’s up next
but my treasure’s not going anywhere.
My treasure’s in heaven, and my Isaac’s on earth.
My heart is in heaven and my treasure’s in my bed.

I gave up my riches but I had no faith
from the crow’s three caws until today, but
by the fire I heard a whispered word
sounding like a cymbal or a
ram’s horn
“He’s back,
and He’s coming back, and He’s back.”

The vanishing act’s up next
but this time it’s screwtape’s turn to disappear.
Come watch the show.
The dawn is here.