[written at least three weeks ago]

i got over the death cult,
drips splintered, bomb
disposal, i see past
confessional
breezeblocks
coal
wonder at such
structured attempts
to hurt
and how
you could
be so
wide of the mark
i watch you
argue with
my portrait
i put religion
in a box over
there,
there,
next to the,
yes,
it looks
okay
doesn't
it
go on
have my soul
for afters
photocopy it
leave it
out in the
rain
i put this here
so that it isn't
waiting when
i look at you
pops out
you know