Start writing...Sunday has always
been so much
like school
another time for
me to forget that
I remember
once I still
listened to the rules
I used to
put on the
black slacks
I had pressed
then my button
down and clip-on tie,
polished shoes
and I was dressed
Those were the days
where I found god
if I sat
statue still
with my
brothers and sisters
who don't really
call or talk to me
much anymore but
send their thoughts
and their prayers
when they remember
or scroll past my name
I never bother
to do the same
In college Sunday
changed as if it
hadn't already been gone
but she stopped asking
or maybe I stopped answering
I don't remember which
truth is true
I just know I smelled
like smoke and
chainsmoked over the menu
after 3am
waiting on scrambled eggs
and bacon
with my brothers and
sisters who forgot my name
and finally
stopped praying.
I think it was
that time in my life
between failing tests and
never going to classes,
that I tried to do my best
but my best it
never happened
I just went looking
for new trespasses
or
some type of glory
started fucking girls
with no names
but pretty paintings for faces
that I found boring
it was these nights
that I stared into
the stars and thought
they were god winking
down at me
but it was those nights
that I stopped finding him
I stopped feeling him so
I stopped
believing in him
because i didn't want too
My Sundays best
became some torn
blasphemous band
promotion showing off
my disdain for
society and the way i saw it
spinning down the drai
and i wondered if the stars
up high in my
universe and sky
even have eyes
or ears
or hearts
and do they beat
in some
synchronous symphony
in tune with ours?
Nowadays Sunday
well it just starts and
stops the week
An inglorious series
of begin, end, repeat
I still look up at those stars
almost every week
Not looking for answers,
just staring in defeat.
