Church Bells

The ringing in my ear has evolved into your personal monotone.
Every ounce of my being wants to knock on your door,
Except the part that won’t let me get out of bed.
I almost picked up a piece of mind yesterday
On the highway, it reminded me of us.
Midnight’s show felt like forever,
I thought we would have at least lasted the night.
I’m not sure you know what a one night stand is,
Or you wouldn’t be here.
You shouldn’t be here.
I think if we do this again it has to mean something.
He probably thinks it means something already,
But He’s like that.
I don’t think I was taught how to pray correctly,
Because my architect is still dead.
I thought you would fix that,
Or He would,
But you never knew how to pray either.
I only ever got drunk with your brother,
But He hates me,
And so does your brother.

I visited Eastern last week,
I tried to pray in front of your family
But they were all dead.
I thought I could make the trip in three days.
I dreamt about your door,
And the doorbell in my ear mollified.
I tried getting out of bed last week,
I made it to about Eastern and decided it was a bad idea.
Your mother picked me up on the highway,
She was in a coma and foaming my afflatus.
I thought I could make it to you in days,
That was a year and two months ago.
I hate your doctor,
And I wish you did too.

You said grace at Christmas dinner when I was eight.
I wish I was eight.
The ringing in my ear migrated to my legs,
And I ran this morning.
I tried to make it to the old church,
But He wouldn’t let me past 3rd.
I think He watches me sleep.
On the nights that I don’t pray I feel guilty.
Hell, I feel guilty anyway.

The mollified mummified monotone returned this afternoon,
I thought it was gone forever.
I forgot to pray last night,
And sleeping was hard.
I miss your mother,
And her piece of mind,
And the way she made you say grace,
And your elbows on my table.
I miss your dead family,
And Him,
And I miss you sometimes,
Given, less than I should.
But I only ever loved you for Him,
And that’s not even what he wanted.


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