I'm going to tell you something.
This is confessional.
And someone, somewhere may use this
to soapbox about all things heterosexual
to soapbox about all things nuclear family
to soapbox about all things trappings of organized religion
to soapbox about all things not-me.
I don't give a damn. I'm telling you anyways.

The loneliest I ever feel,
is right after worship.

Right after worship,
particularly after telling the deepest truth i've got.
And the loneliness is magnified on holidays
when I go home alone
and i'm not at home, but i'm certainly alone--
even if i'm surrounded by people.

There is no home for a prophet--Jesus was right about that.

But here's what he didn't say:
you go looking for home all the days of your life
and you never find it--not if you're honest--
because home is a fleeting moment that will not be owned
or married or institutionalized.

There is only the freedom in truth, that localizes in a body
that's willing to be a channel, that's willing to be
so fucking alone afterward that it almost makes
the freedom of truth worth forsaking.

Almost.

But I will never forsake freedom or truth. Never.
And that's how I know my soul is in tact
in this fucking monstrosity of a culture that
desires people to run from loneliness
straight into the chains that will enslave them.

Constant Ache

Someday my pain, someday my pain
Will mark you
Harness your blame, harness your blame
And walk through

With the wild wolves around you
In the morning, I'll call you
Send it farther on

Solace my game, solace my game
It stars you
Swing wide your crane, swing wide your crane
And run me through

And the story's all over you
In the morning i'll call you
Can't you find a clue when your eyes are all painted Sinatra blue

What might have been lost -
Don't bother me