from years back...

God, You’re not all I need.
You never have been, I don’t even know you.
I want to use all my passions to discover the mystery of You
but Apathy is greater,
and my upbringing has turned mystery into an imaginary relationship
with suburban ideals and a lost sense of reality.
How could you possibly
be everything to me,
be the fucking air I breathe-
determine my morals?
Martin Luther,
and Billy Graham with your mistress, was it?
And, Paul, you radical little cowboy.
Some of the greatest revolutionaries:
far from grace
perhaps a little mixed up in the head.
Only Jesus,
You’re the only sane one.
And you, reader,
you judge me with your bloody righteousness
that you use to hide who you really are;
Or who, maybe, you should be.
Think on that, then think on your ignorance,
Then get back to me.
Maybe you can save me then.