I’m probably going to die from thirst.
This body is in drought
The reservoir went out as tears
This tongue is now a desert; arid.
Bury me beside a sea.
Maria will come running with a stream
She thinks I’m going to die from thirst.
It’s as serious as it seems
Do save me, but not if the drought kills me first.
I have sinned.
If Maria saves me, please allow me die.
Mark responding will be believing a lie.
Mark is my secret, and Maria my sin
Purgatory is a place I’d try.
In the absence…
A pillow, and mat will do in an inn.
Yes you are sin,
and that is why I sent an angel but you named her.
You are a mark, I look (luke) out for.
One who let my metaphors to pour.
Do not think of absence as Purgatory.
So long the sun shines even if it’s thin.
I have named you a Gospel, look out for my scar.
From a Sinner,
I am one of no name
but my path looks far from sane.
I am the little drop of tears in her pain.
I am always on the roof like rain.
Imagine how I’m losing my way, am I Cain?
When you made Joy, was it all in vain?
Wait! Who will read all these letters from my brain?
Maybe I should stop, I’m beginning to beg to be insane.
I fell in love with one girl named Maria,
Her love, went round to Mark, Luke and Jesus,
it had no barrier.
Sometimes she misplaced her heart when she spoke to either of us.
And I was on the other side watching and writing.
When it was time, Maria made me go mad
I became a sinner and my sins I kept printing.
In words as poems, in letters borrowed from a pad.
So I wrote these words that posed like God
to tell you how I feel, like there’s a weakness in our cord.