Answers.
or at least questions
that resonate beyond screeching tires
tread marks left on over-heated tar
black top burning hard into my feet
still He can't hear
so i walk softly onto the grass
and rest beneath the weeping trees
that keep their branches high
even when the wind threatens to break them from their leaves
but i am not a tree
my roots are shallow and easily up-heaved
the storms clot my narrow veins
as my ulcered stomach fights to stay below my throat
every minute
every day
and when i bellow and fall
fists clutching tight to my sunken chest
i hope i am forgotten for my weakness
remembered only for the inquisition
i couldn't quite call a life
and i hope it crumbles so loudly
He awakes into existence
and maybe
if all the cards fall flat
and show their suites with pride
He will open his eyes
and maybe
if all the dice land with their highest count displayed
with abundance and balance
He will open his mouth to speak
and soil his virgin tongue
but god damn it
I could use those words right now.