The Body the Temple

 

Maybe the rain will

wash the dirt off

the temple that

gods have forsaken

and cleanse the feet

of a homeless man

who takes shelter from

rain, depressed from

 

clouds. Without a choice he cuts into the

church with a rusty axe he keeps hidden with

a sleeve. In hopes that no one will see the

mechanism that harms his sanctuary.

 

 

The sound of the bell is dulled with intrusive thoughts, the same ones

that tell him he deserves this. The ones that tell him to rob and

steal moments of clarity, because they are the few and far  

between the delusion and the ecstasy. Quietly he

 

accepts his communion

by injecting delusions

of satisfaction  

that helps him lie.