Heretic

Living in catacombs,

the darkness breathes I don’t need you.

If you could see me,

you could see that I don’t care.

These bones surround me.

These crumbling ruins

have memories that stink like rage.

A tower of babble,

a pedestal I built for you to stand.

I’d knock you off it

if I could find a way.

I know what you said,

I heard every lie,

pretending not to hear.

My praying hands

closed over tattooed stigmata.

God has never

bent to listen.

My prayer unanswered,

no miracle mine,

I sink to walk on water.

Buy me a rosary

the teeth of children

count until my fingers bleed

and my tongue grows numb

‘til I don’t know

what I was counting,

maybe you.

© 2026 Brian G Parker