nathanael.ink

it is a wide door
it must be the city
lighting the uneven wall on the other side

we manufactured rain
my body fakes to be held down
by fifty pounds of news and paper

a beachside is remade
by three blades in a humming oscillation

i am as awake as you are
whatever eeks into you
so eeks into me

my little pinky finger holding this phone up
aches
the spiritual place where everything is
i know i must be

does jesus ever go on holiday?

i wonder if it rains to help him sleep
and if he made the ocean just for its sound
was he man enough to get stuck awake
or always god enough to sleep?