God
stares into the heart of my human-ness
what a mess
His creation
our devotion to ruin
trying to find a truth
or even a longing for one
and all He's found in me is the mess
i've made
kept
of the charity he intended.

I
have let the weight of vice
cloud the rooms of judgement
He's built so carefully
running away from eyes that
search for a need,
and I,
I
have learned to self-supply.