If God is omnipresent , 
then your mouth is an altar.
Be kind towards the apple you bite,
And to the current of fire hidden in a lake.
If they find you whispering my name, the clouds will call it a miracle and wrap it in rain , to the museum of sainthood.
I will then let to have a rope over my neck and trot along ,
And let you lift your knife until my neck.
You are the priest,
You are the god,
And the beast.
I rot, in your memory.
If God is omnipresent, 
then your eyes are shrines.
It is an adventure
not to fall in half love with
your glass walls and cement floors.
If they find me sitting on your steps, 
then the winds 
will praise your kindness and 
make you a  scarlet sand star. 
I will pull my memory,
ribbon like and dripping ,
into your floor and 
put cherries on my mouth 
when they stone me.
You are the sanctum 
and the slaughter house.
I bleed, in holy pain.
If God is omnipresent,then 
your hands are scriptures 
where the stories of angels are recorded. 
Your verbs, 
sapphire and sunlight mixed, 
kisses thin lips of 
unknown prophecies.
If they find me 
mouthing thy name, 
the sea will call me a sinner 
and drown the flowers 
I carried for you.
You are the sea, 
You are the shore.
I hiss, and 
my mouth tastes salt.
.
.
.
I keep my head down,
And you ascend in 
your water throne, and 
I will give you my burial shroud, 
to clean your feet.

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