COLD COMFORT

Please forgive me
should I give thee
a piece of flesh,
fresh
meat for the pyre?
      Faith's expired
God's tired and lame
responses to shame
that haunts us, taunts us
with grace
 and broken promises-
Believable when perceivable,
cold comfort if
    confronted with
the icy cold
wind chilling, freezing rain
constant pain, off the handle
   Light the candle
of despair- I care
less
for your moral complacencies,
        recipes
for success- Let me guess:
you're white and wealthy
healthy and sober,
not hungover
from a drunken orgy?
  Don't bore me
with your judgment, or words
of wisdom.
     It's come
down to this:
let my shit stink
and your ego shrink-
       then think
before you speak
walk a while in my sneaks
sneak peaks, freak shows,
            blows
your mind
with dark thoughts and distress.
  I guess
you should quit talking
and keep walking

                     home.