silently weeping how the air is so brisk and I watch her praying in the front pew of god’s house. Striving internally for the voice of conscience in ode to our sacrificial pictures of Christ that decks the front and sides of this overbearing castle. Confessing Sunday’s ordinary sinful best like a restless plague institutionalized by the almost impossible popularity of sainthood. I’m just trying to distinguish the lord above and the voice inside my head and the reasons for both.

father riley stands tall and unbroken as words of biblical prose scatter through the crowd and baptize, “for my god , eternally risen in me , bless this vague heart and so shall I too rise with you”. as I think deeply to myself my thoughts create unmentionable ideas as I watch on this son of man decorated in cordial monk fashion and I raise an eyebrow in glimmer. I’ve always been quite apprehensive upon entering god’s home as wishful humans call it but correct me if I’m the only one in question when I say I’ve felt such wrongness arise in me when in this place. Maybe because I bring with me darkness and evil but maybe as the question continues , just maybe something amongst this crowd they themselves convey the wrongness that reeks with such a stench of blasphemy and hypocrisy. The odor of a reckless and desperate society that would probably appear invisible in front of a mirror or even , as the attraction of a virgin mother statue in Mexico has miraculously done , shed tears of blood in all it’s strangeness.

I am a believer but not of the comical alliance between the original writer and his prized novel , the bible. I believe in something here to after and the sense of right and wrong or even the reflection in my mirror , because as much as Beelzebub so willingly wants me to believe I simply do not or cannot exist , I am pain and I am love and therefore evermore I exist. human tendency is a dangerous reaction to an otherwise subtle world of heaven and hell and the damned souls in between. Amen