sometimes it's necessary to weigh your soul against the cross.
against a pistol.
against a wad of cash held by a crusty rubber-band.
it's easy for me, mostly because i'm a libra. the scale comes
with the horoscope. right now my
soul barely registers.
as mr. green asks, "would you sell your soul for gold?"
not yet, not ever.
different question. if my faith is weak, is it okay to strengthen it through alternative means?
can i use an anchor as a cross?
can i modify what's been set in stone for so long. is it
pull the blinds
down. is it
okay if i take off for
a little while?
i wonder what will become of me. an afterlife i hope.
one in which i can run my fingers through the clouds &
trace the outline
of t.s. eliot's
"love long of j.alfred prufrock"
while chanting about
what love is.
is it seeing the scale tip ever so slightly in favor of my heart?
i don't suppose we'll ever find out.
being rhetorical gets
but i'm having fun.
stick around till tomorrow?
the mud is loose but
i will take
stand firm & i suppose that is a-okay, at least according to anthony green it's like:
"trembling idle hands, holding me there."