what I felt like as a sinner
when I broke my bread with saints
and all the crumbs under the table said,
"this is my body, I can't give to you"
oh my god what a mess I've made
oh my god what a mess I've made of you

you say, "wow"
looking up into the clouds,
"the sun beams look
like poles made for god to slide down
in case of fire,
in case of flood (in case we drown)
in case of an emergency
but there isn't one right now
right now..

"...or not to be,"
I say staring at my feet
reciting bleaker halves of quotes
of poets
buried undereath them
and I sigh in an act of great defeat
saying uh huh uh huh uh huh uh huh
i dont care i dont care
how naive...