I hear you speak from across the portal
in the middle of my mind, far from my
throat, a place, for a time, outside my skull.
what are you going to do when you die?
i’ll belt out the answers to great questions
and that, alone, will stave off my demise.
I’m always party to a thousand suns:
my lord and savior hears my cries.
this is structure, in full, to be believed:
i am the creator of His geometry -
super starstruck by all that i’ve achieved,
there is a time, now, for diplomacy,
and we’ll make it back to the center of
time—flaming roses, gone out of my mind,
think of nothing but your one true love,
spoken like a warrior, well as designed,
nothing has to die to be eaten, friend
so you’re even better than the real thing
until that, naturally, comes to an end,
and your conscience is here, now, to sing,
don’t tell me to love what you can’t deny
forgiven by Him - I was made this way,
every option is the option i spy,
living by ratios that define today,
the past fits into the future; He remains,
stout hearted master, ace up his sleeve,
sure to forgive what goes to great pains
to understand the reasons we relieve
when we choose the faith that we foresee,
determined, once, to shrug him off,
since, to love Him, would be fine and dandy
if the lot of us, that is, refused to scoff,
but we know that they’re outnumbered,
don’t we? no strangers in heaven, then?
i already married—I gave my word,
i prefer the company of beer and men,
but my master, I’m told, is true to His aim,
striking a chord when we are ashamed,
go forth, at once, and do as you claim,
my mind’s eye, Romeo, is inflamed.