Everything has fallen through the Mobius strip.

It is so nice to simply write. Like walking without weights attached to my ankles. All the same, the friendship brigade is missing from many my circles and message boards.

Just for the time being. Just a quick walk through the friendly park. The circles under my eyes, the gargoyles in my drawings, the tatters in my clothes, falcon lifted and washed in the moon.

“Forgive me, lord.” he cried against the tree of Gethsemane. “These are drops of blood coming out of my face.”

“Why? You don’t do anything.” says everyone.

I must not be getting things across clearly. That’s where part of the blood is coming from. But I have to pick up the gun, and by that I mean fighting without one.

You talk about people not believing in anything within this pointless existence and I’m the first one holding his hand up, cooked in the sun and wild eyed. Hashtag bloody eyeball.

“Please, please, just do it, just do it for us.”


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