God’s (bastard) son
grew in silence
like the best of us.

The crooked halo symbolises no state of being,
just an inner child etherised
at 5 in the morning - far more than any pure heart
can take.

Watch the apprehension materialise
into an unplaceable archangel,
abstract enough to mistake for a companion
until the love lost evokes an epiphany:
God’s language doesn’t deal in semantics.

So keep silent.
Last edited by Bleed Away at Oct 7, 2013,
The deliberate diction bugged me until you addressed it somewhat at the finale. Smart, but it still wasn't enough for me to commit to saying I fully enjoyed this. It's like a provocative Ryvita. I think the stodgy vocabulary and lack of real rhythm is alienating, appealing only in small doses. The line breaks and run-ons are inconsistent, so it feels as though little thought has been allotted for the reader's experience - some intrusive punctuation across the whole piece is also indicative of this.

Smart but not something I'd frame. Perhaps it's the intimidating/instructive tone. Or maybe its me.