right now i'm just sitting here
i'm just at something like peace
i just got finished reading some bad
british poetry
some metaphysical shit from the 1600;s.
back then everybody loved jesus,
they loved him so much that if you didn't
love him too,
in the right way, they'd chop off your fingers
or set your head on fire
like them i'd like to think
that most of the time i love you
but what i require is that the dead
in man in me be risen
and that the sad things sitting all
around me stand up and dance
and that my cigarettes be good and i be
embued with patience and charity
when they are not