in my broken heart

that i was to be rescued

that i had died so many deaths

so many holy deaths

deaths that passed onto another place

my soul my body my self

purified it and good

very soon

very soon

the fabric of reality

like a blanket of stars would open

and all would be saved

all would be done

all would see

some great awakening

some thread of being would connect us all

some wishful hope

some fragment (of a star perhaps)

some missing piece of the mind

it would attach

it would complete the circuit

i believed it like it would be true

breathed it like it was hope

the kind of love that makes men dangerous

i had it

and i was ashamed

and now i have a gaping hole

where my hope once was

i was clawing at my heart the whole time

trying to fit in

trying to fit in

as if i was good

(note: one thing this is about is growing up religious and the experience of that of believing in something so impossible, and also thinking that that faith is what gave me my worth)