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April 07, 2006
Isaiah 6:5
i wrote this about last Sunday
Death to Self
Just like you that would be Justice
you want to make a place for them
You don’t know who I was
You don’t remember who you were
All ways a place at the table
Always a table to sup at
The host burned in my mouth
The host of Heaven
Burned with hot coals
With the dirty glow of glucose
Burned upon the lips
As sins become prophecies.
How can it be that I remember
Bleeding down my throat
Bleeding in my chest
How can interest bring remembrance?
Death to Self.
When Women Wear Hats | By razorback | 10:51 PM
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