Jesus Christ, it's

been quite a while,

my bare knees touching 

the smooth cedar of the kneeling pew.

Jesus Christ, it's

almost like i/you/we 

are dying all over again

because this pit in my stomach keeps growing larger

but maybe its the pabst 

or the swift kick in the ass 

i got

when i realized that everything 

will be okay.

everything will be okay.

breathe.

twice.

slower.

Jesus Christ it's

like my hair's on fire

and the only water to put it out

is the holy water on the altar 

but how can i live without it's burning purge

of sins against my scalp.

but breathe.

twice.

slower.

i lived twice already and still nothing moves me.

i can't believe i just used ass in a poem.