Ida

I wait to see my angel bring me soft tears.

To feel my shame.

And feel my doubt of her faith.

Ida, my love angel, I have wondered your protection

and consumed demonic tongues.

Illuminated secrets are bitten down

and you shrunk as suffered steeples left you blind.

Gloom through my unzipped pants and touch my glory of stiff comfort

For I would die to see the sure of your promise of Lord’s Heaven.

Though I have been blessed,

and without the cleansed sensation of my feet.

My God what have you done to your son’s name?

With the broken stem of my vain connected to it?

Holy spirit, wipe the naughtiness from my cinder asshole.

I beg to be bonded together with chords that can not be broken.

Though the sense of seperating me and her

for you has torn the chords of my bible’s love.

With me folding the blind folded congregation,

I can place a kiss to my precious Jesus and give him a goodnight.