Is it too much to ask for some soil to lay on my head?
I am ashamed of myself - do not look for me -
I come in peace - and stillness - I strive to be that person:
a man of vices and prudence.
Through this child-like country, mundane
yet intractable (like myself)
I stroll but in moments - and come to grips with -
the will to find meaning in revelations
that I cannot comprehend (not yet.)
In frailty I divest each ungodly encounter
from redemption.
I had no friends, yet,
I anchored my head to the notion of solidarity,
though I would rather be left alone.

I have no higher purpose - good sir - I am pure
(as far as my eyes can perceive)
the reality is bigger than me: I exhort,
“this is my flesh; this is my blood -

And as I scrape the last humus from my face, I will tell you this:
I hear salvation comes in threes/God
have mercy on me!
Last edited by Bleed Away at Aug 3, 2011,
This read very much like a stream-of-conscious piece and the title reflects that as well. Coming from an outside perspective, it was hard to get a feel for the focus of the piece especially given the introspectiveness of it. However, I can definitely commend you for always bringing a strong voice to your work; it's definitively 'you'. I'll give you a better comment on your next one but I just wanted to drop by and leave a few words.
here, My Dear, here it is