Unitentional smoke signals to God.

A Poem by dukovan

Product of angst, religion, memories and a car ride to talk it all out.

Burnt up my mattress just for the new year.
A cross-eyed stranger with stars in the center,
waiting on the new me to pull myself together.

The walls are peeling paint and looks a lot like last year;
with a pseudo-woman and a cross-dressed inspector.
We're learning all our lessons well before thirty.
Jesus is coming and the years already dirty.

Came into the complex with my own agenda.
First you weren't speaking and I started talking louder.
Said, "There's holes in the ceiling and I know what you've been up to.
Its none of my business,
but someone needs to tell you."

Bible in my good hand, I'm learning about the left side.
Ambidextrous answers, I'm learning about the good side.
"Sorry if its tricky, but kid you've got to focus."
Smoke signals from the ceiling,
pray like hell, like they told us.

Don't forget to mention your
best intentions.
Its better to make your bed first.
Don't worry about
first impressions.
either way we'll probably get hurt.