Porcelain that’s splattered
with one little speck
turns into worthless
it turns into death

I am that porcelain
I am regret
The darkness inside me
Is pouring out yet

Terrible, terrible
Stain on my soul
The more that I scrub
The less that is goes

Desolate, empty
Perhaps terrified
Covered in ugly
I can’t ever hide.

Good Friday

God died today
God cried today
I wasn't there
had a price to pay
down at the market
with 300 others
down at the store
with chocolate and feathers
lemon creame pie
hams large and on fire
custard and mustard
and three dozen skewers
a reciept with my name
labeld in red
a reciept in my hand
that told me i'm dead
and then from the sky
came blood like a terror
and fell on my paper
it turned into vapor
God died today
I cried today

scrapes and paste
and sunday blues
pork and rolls and
gravey like glue
burning and baking
and all the like too
it's easter today
but where's the good news?