I'm lost and you are a magnifying glass
when all i need is a telescope

my padded cell
has done nothing but hold me back
and Freud told them to paint it pink
to calm my nerves

when talking to myself
has given way
to talking to you
when all my words collide
and paint a picture,
a beautiful portrait
of you and I
holding our hands
pulling sleeves and leading each other down
where we make awkward eyes and words
yet whisper peacefully all night.

-Or-

Healing yourself is never all that easy
although these days
when Christ comes
back to visit
for the third time
and my placebo heart
heats up

as we all drift off to the heavens
here comes the rapture
here comes our rupture
sleeping soundly

we all explode to our feet
and wipe away last nights
dreams from our eyes

I am sure
as we all raise our arms
fold our hands and pray

to god the highest
to the third coming

he's sitting on golden throne
looking down
adding up the integers
and equating the outcome
an algebraic god
a superstitious Christ
and my placebo heart.