by Keith Landrum
blind believers
salt my wounds with
forced tears of mercy
and they tell me
there’s a man above and
a beast below and
I am stuck
somewhere in between
these believers with their
fear drenched faith
warn me of an end
yet unseen
and I must choose
a place for my
soul bruised black
because tomorrow is
too late
and I tell them I’ve
gambled god’s grace
and drank whiskey
with the devil
in my living room
and I have chosen
to believe in
myself
and like the
bird in the sky
and the worm in
the ground
we all have our
place
and none of us
deserve anything
better
than death