by Matt Clifford
“And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words.” -Matthew 6:5-7
The door to my room was closed I was in the dark under a blanket yet his face wasn’t in my orgasm this morning maybe I should have said oh my God once at the perfect moment. I thought about my lover. I’m coming again to the place where I started, considering eternity and not going to sleep. It is the body’s instinct to rest after output. I miss her too much so I write. I did not see the face of God in my breakfast this morning. I eat a banana on the way to work and an apple once I am there.
I did not see the face of God at work. Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s. I told a man he owed the IRS sixteen thousand dollars. He said he would pay it.
The door to the bathroom was locked the toilet seat was down and the lights stayed on yet his face wasn’t in my orgasm this afternoon I said oh my God once but not loud enough for anyone to hear. I thought about my lover’s fingers. I’m returning to the computer that keeps me, considering fate and yawning. It is the mind’s instinct to resist its input. I miss myself too much so I think. I did not see the face of God in myself. I have doubted my patterns.
I think I passed the face of God driving in traffic this evening the radio was loud.
The top of the bottle was open so the angel could have their share. I passed it to my lover she took a sip said oh my god we kissed. I took another and another and missed the wedding where the faces of God’s believers were. I do not trust the things they know. They know something I don’t. I knew them once and I miss them and I will never know them again. I did not see the face of God when she was talking me home because I was passed out in the backseat. We never even opened the second bottle.
I did not see the face of God in the orgasm I did not have tonight.
The door to my face was closed I was in a dream where I had done something wrong something very very wrong nobody would tell me what a normal human being would never forget doing something like that something very very wrong like that it felt like all the conditions I ever felt at once I said my God my God why have you forsaken me what have I done? I could hear God’s laughter but not see the face it was coming from.
I woke up hysterical as a baby natural in a godless vision with my mouth moving.
Matt Clifford has punk rock books and a poetry band: www.blackmarkettranslation.rocks 😉 www.mattclifford.org. Punketry is every second Tuesday at Mutiny Information Cafe.
