the line that strings the beads of my rosary must have been fraying for a while because they all fell off and rolled all over your hardwood floor as jeff buckley sang hallelujah. i hate that song. it reminds me of being stuck in a catholic mass dressed in my sunday best on the coldest day of the year buried someplace up in the mid-west. jesus was a cave man who rose from the dead but i think he was a magician with tricks hidden in the folds of his robe. if there wasn’t such thing as technology i couldn’t imagine how exciting it would be to see somebody walk on water then turn it into wine. wow imagine that i swear he would totally have been my best friend. wait no fuck that we could have be madly in love and i would have had no choice but to be mary magdalene’s sloppy seconds on the third day after you rose again.

the ball was in your court but oops you dropped it again when i never stopped rooting for the home team. i decided you were dead to me the day you spit in my face and since then things haven’t changed. they will never be the same. the toys you manipulated turned their tables and now your the one who’s left all by yourself in a padded room with white noise that badly needs a coat of paint the true color of your lies. you committed a perfect ten of the seven deadly sins and in the beginning it seemed like someone was going to get a story tail ending. poor things for believing what you were saying but i must admit that it was amusing to watch you choke after you slapped everyone you fucked in the face. it came as no surprise to me that they couldn’t see through all your shades of gray. it only makes me question my own loyalty because i kept secrets and lied through my teeth and almost tried to help you clean up your pieces. in some religions they would cut your dick off for what you’ve done. i may not believe in love nor even god but one thing i need to feel is trust and i would never break for your truth because you are just not good enough. loser.