I definitely haven’t been in the mood for a story today, collecting my thoughts was a problem.
I haven’t written a poem in a month or so, I miss poetry. It’s the easiest form of writing for me and it gives me the most joy, even when I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…
Orison
Pray for me even if you don’t believe
There’s a god to answer.
For this cup fills me
With anguish & bone crushing dread
And I am yet to take a sip
Pray for me, hold my hand if you can.
For this darkness swallows me whole
I can’t breathe
I can’t breathe
I cannot fucking breathe.
Pray for me, day and night
Perhaps God would look to you
Maybe your sins are fewer,
Maybe he knows you still.
Me? He’s forgotten me.
Pray for me for my tongue is gone,
Stolen by the thief of peace.
My words jumble in my head
Desperate for air,
Dying by the minute.
Pray for me even if you don’t believe
In prayers, or charms forgotten by ancestors.
Pray for my soul
For the earth wearies me
And I want to die now.