I Sit At the Table Typing These Words

You’ve been lying about the code
and I can’t believe what you’re saying
Still I heard everything
all the thoughts that pierced my brain

what I thought was the static
of blood in my head
is turned off at night
and a transmitter
plays the songs of divinity

lying above the cove
with hope in the sand
pulling the heart from everything
I am a blessed cow with ringing
in my ears

My eyes have turned to stone
while I walk barefoot in a field
of broken things that mesmerize
me into a sort of stunned tranquility

thoughts churn words in my head
the pillars of my sanctuary shake,
toss everything in the river to sink
before they can be carried
from my head to my heart

I passed a lady turned to salt in the desert and I
gave her my emotion and chipped away her hands.
I bled for her and she taught me
the measure of everything

and so I heard you spoke of me
as I counted my last breaths,
the three of us together,
you asked a crowd to take me
because I was no one
it was far less to murder a god instead

but your mother would have tried to hold me down
nail my hands to her chest and spike feet on holy ground
and she would have been angry with you
for leaving her to me
to take care of an invalid that wasn’t hers
just so the crowd could play make believe

now I sit at the table typing these words
as though they mean anything
as much as a fire burning a stable
a river drowning a plain
because the ringing drowns
out the words that explain everything.