you, my heart, speaking

drain-rain. why is it so exhausting to cry? an afternoon passed by. sobs and snodder, folded up in my cellphone, sweater dirty, wings slacking, shoulders sacking, thought entangled in an old shoe.

tears from heaven. is heaven inside? i didn't find it in the sky. it was blue, a tired sad American flag dragging in the sky. i really live off the scale. off from what so many perceive as their world, always themselves as the center point, no matter what, whether or not you want it, I want it, we want it. Fleeting in doubts, anchoring in hopes and faith, dreaming away losing the I, drafting thoughts, reaching for medication, trying to cure the curse of the I, drugs expanding, corrupting your soul...
.
a small little flower. incredible purple. insane, how nature came up with all these gorgeous things.
is that a hawk on the church tower?
he looked through his sunglasses and said it is a fake one.
teardrops on the floor. are you stoned? or did you cry.
tears from heaven.

write your love inside my shivering soul. clinch your raw claws into my heart. eat it alive. carve your words into the emptiness that the rain left behind, cleansing and washing away what meaningless bushfires burnt and left behind.

yes, father, I know the difference between.
between
desire. lust. inclination.
and
rules, obligations, systems of belief

inbetween
is the voice
you, my heart, speaking.