there are a whole lot of atheists,
and even more christians.
i guess i’d be somewhere in between,
moving from the latter more every day,
inching closer to the edge of a spiritual amputation.
holy spirit please answer me this-
when i cut my heart out,
will i still cry in the church parking lot?

how do i know the tourniquet in my throat that chokes back searing trauma

won’t lose it’s hold?
will you nail my hands to my past or my future?
how will you repair the trenches seared into my face from the saltwater?

eroding away at my skin until i’m nothing but bones in your presence.

how humble of me.

how can a seven headed beast go by such a simple name?
stripping me of my skin.

manipulating my skeleton to evangelize in its honor.

the only things that have ever been truly my own,

it takes for itself.

you can not accuse it of stealing something it has owned all along.

a mixture of deism and agnosticism, i’ve taken shelter under many labels.
compressed all of my thoughts under one dilapidated roof.

crumbling after every storm.

however i can’t ignore that a god exists.

in my reality it’s always been a given fact.
the ethereal realm is reflected in the purity of feline eyes.
or in the way moonlight swims onto my lover’s face while she’s falling asleep next to me.
and in the low, heavy-footed weather after it has rained.
i can see it everywhere,

it is unavoidable.
i know that this world is not a mistake or by chance.
the deist in me realizes that something had to guide the universe along at some point.
everyone needs a little help now and then.

does that include the creator of our universe?
the agnostic side of me, however, will relentlessly argue that looking into things will disrupt their order.

stuffing wool into my eyes with my own hands.
that things not revealed to me are for the greater good.

how dare i try to understand.

even after a seemingly clean break from a forced baptist upbringing, it’s always been extremely difficult to view things outside of that sealed lens.
the condemning, not-perfect-enough, hateful mindset that my church had towards outsiders has manifested itself towards me.
i have become the outsider i hated.

i can’t disown myself the same way my family can.

punishing myself has only made matters worse.

but looking through the other side of the stained glass will show you how exclusive it is.
the most elite country club that you could ever try to join.

going back that way has never been an option.
there are modern churches, of course, that try a little harder to cater to the masses.
they still make me sick.
the baptist in me wants to tell them they’re wrong for accepting homosexuality.
for accepting me.

and yet i hate the baptists for being opposite.
why would i want to be unacceptable?
your guess is as good as mine.
my therapist said it’s because i want a reason to despise religion.

or not wanting to go through the pain of adjustment.
maybe you’re right, nick.
my self hatred is a very difficult breed.

help me haul it off to the shelter.
although i would pity the fool that adopts it next.

maybe i should put it down.