Shopping for a new Jesus

I'm walking the isles at the Jesus store
Looking for a quality product.
Perhaps a fine hand crafted Jesus
Or a powerful and efficient new model.
Something with that new Jesus smell.
Not to flashy though.
I don't want to get my Jesus jacked.

I pass the red furry Jesus
And the effeminate candle Jesus.
Kitsch Jesus just isn't my style
I need something more reliable
A Jesus with a money back guarantee.
And it better be in writing
Right on the box.

There is always the create-your-own-Jesus kit.
But I like my Jesus batteries included
No assembly required.
It just doesn’t seem like
They make Jesus like they used to
Maybe I'll just wait till my birthday
My wife always buys me Jesus.

It just never feels good
Walking into a store
And not buying anything.
Maybe I'll pick up some gummy Jesus
You know, for the kids.
I'll see what type of impulse Jesus
they have by the cash register.

Man 1: Pardon me do you have a hanky?

Man 2: How did you know I had a hanky?

Man 1: There is a hanky hanging from your breast pocket.

Man 2: How do you know I have breasts?

Man 1: Just becasue you have a breast pocket dosen't mean you have breasts.

Man 2: Don't get smart with me, beggar.

Man 1: It's just my allergies are killing me.

Man 2: I'd rather let you be killed than let you go on talking about my breasts.

Man 1: So you do have breasts?

Man 2: Quit slandering me.

Man 1: A question can't slander.

Man 2: Is that you're hooker or your wife Mr. Presidnet?

Man 1: Point taken.

Come to think of it.
Past the footsteps.
Soul intervention.
Miles of space.
Insert Interjection.
So to speak.
Turn back into.
Burnt filament
Long prestigious walks.
Self promotion.
Ill will to men.
If I were you.

Summer is a proud time if pride comes before the fall
Excuse me while I bulid an altar to myself

Does it matter anymore whether the time is wasted here or there? Are we mixing metaphors or sharing stolen property with the people. Wait that makes me a people. I am not a people. Long live the labor of the masses. Eventually the turn is inevitable. Ignoring wounds makes them worse not non-existent. I hope I don't wait for death to be my wake up call. I hate funerals.

"My sunburn hurts." Said the man who had been told a hundred times.

Accused before a jury of his peers for negligence. "I didn't know". He responded lackadaisically to the man with his finger on the decision maker.

"It was just an accident". The words slide out from his lips like everything he does could fall into that category.

He began his lie with a sincere apology for future wrongs "I'm sorry" The words sound calculated and not sincere like the phone system lady.

Individual instants
Creeping cowardly
From sex to silence

Wasted words
investing permanently
in lies of love

Apologize again
Crying cynically
on silk sheets

Degenerate Desire
resting secretly
in lock jawed lips

Hardened Heart
moving languidly
through lost life

Addicted to Almosts

So I fill my head with unthougts to relieve the pain of maybeness and uncontrollable futures. If all I have to deal with is a moment by moment forgetfulness and the idea that sleep is my most desired goal I won't have to do anything about the predicament of existence. He slowly takes away the excuses I am trying to build brick by brick like a jail cell and hurls them into the bottomless pit of omniscience. He knows that I am trying not to think about Him. He knows that I don't want to work on my soul. He knows that humility comes before change and that a proud piece of shit won't take a shower because that would be admitting defeat. So what if God beats me. I know he is right and I know I need what he is trying to give me. But then I couldn't worship myself if I let myself worship him. I just don't have that kind of time.