The Jesus Metaphore


I’ve wine in my veins

So when I bro with the guys

I forget I’m kissing you

I’ve thorns in my pains

‘Cause everybody lies

And I know exactly who

I’ve holes in my hands

So when I close my eyes

I can see right through you

I’ve got tears in my pants

‘Cause there’s only so many tries

That can achieve so few


I’ll never have the wings as white

As the clouds that conceal your shame

And you’ll never be able to understand quite

What it is to never feel the same


I’m the man of the house, put the bread on the table

I’m the man with no spouse, the never quite able

I’m the man in a blouse, the mentally unstable

I’m the man or the mouse, never far from trouble,

I’m the man gone to drowse,  currently unavailable


I’ve blood in my stains

And bone in my brands

I’ve worms in my brains

And twelve lost in this land

It isn’t sugar in these grains

What then weaves my long strands

My love works in hurricanes

Filling their lungs with sands

Until they gouge my eyes

Until they burn my pews

Until they gild my spy

Until they get to you


Cross my heart, nail it to the post

Kiss me, kill me

Let my shadow into the cave

Early morning or late night,

Always around half past three

Look at me strut, follow where I walk

Look at me dance and learn the talk

Designer toga, lonely as ever made

It’s a Turin, lets me throw shade


There is a God in me

Only one they can see

I can feel it gnawing

As the end is drawing

Yearning for your mouth;

I am my own maker,

A lone star in the south

Incestuous moonraker

Mystical nobody,

I wonder what mother sees in me


One last testament of my youth.