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I want to ask you sometime,
about when they feed you your faith,
and you swallow it,
does it glide down nice and easy?
or does your stomach gurgle,
ache a little,
as if you have just digested something
not quite right, as if they'd fed you
something you can't quite trust?
I apologize, already, my friend,
for this sarcasm that seeps out of
the context of my mind onto the
whiteness of this page.
It's just, I do not understand you,
I do not understand what it would be like
to wake up into darkness of 2:30 a.m.
with doubt shuffling around in my mind,
and be able to cling to a white night-light of answers.
Because I have come to like my late-night journeys
into the black alleys of not-knowing,
have come to enjoy the cool
granite of questions beneath my
Sometimes, I would like to hold your faith in
the palm of my hand,
just to know what its presence would feel
like in the pit of my stomach.
But I do not want it, for more
than a moment.
I'm sorry, but it looms like a prison before me,
and I take my freedom where
I can find it.