Theophobia

Sadness is an island that I visit when my life permits
Indulging in parole before your minions see that I have gone
Hurried steps on waning pavement bring me down to water’s edge….
There I take a shoddy boat and set out for a place to mourn

Even on that phantom rock where waves lash out to touch my feet
I feel your eyes awaken like an itch demanding cool remission
Beaming down obsessively, igniting flames upon my neck
Followed by a brutish voice that mocks me in my fetal state

Judgment crashes through the ceiling, crippling what I thought was sky
Once again unwelcome phrases filter in to weigh me down
Scorn has rediscovered me, a satellite that never dies
Pity from the outside growing thinner with each secret sold

Where can this well rattled soul escape your ever burning gaze…
And find a place too deep or high to lose my poltergeist behind?
You dry my tears without consent, then stand me on my feet to fall
I curse your quiet laughter when my back is turned to tilted ears

Where can these frustrated fists unfold to make two praying hands
When a small black cloud pursues me even through a great cathedral’s hall?
Ones that cupped their hands around my innocence now predisposed
Dirt that I had kicked in spite now lies beneath my bended knee

I watch your figure rise behind me as I kneel to splash my face
Your statuesque expression pours disgust around my shattered will
A ceremony follows to divide me from your kingdom kin
You play the circling buzzard while I play the tortoise on its back…