like that man named god

and we hurt
he tells us in these screaming speeches all about this man named god.

we push and pull under lies and truth
growing away from what we came to love.
we are birds, we are bees, we are flowers in a field,
sand on a beach.
a million others surrounding us, being us.
waiting for the shore to bring us back to the man named god.

toes and fingers,
digits on a telephone, everything brings me back to you.
you held me at your heart, threw me to that man and
said you'd always _______.
(those always did sound like false hopes)
throwing these words around like beer bottles on a
wall.
we were only meant to shatter.

baby the sun is shining (but things are still abandoned).
growing old in these new times,
gasping for ways to break the mould or maybe just
become the mould.
you bent at the knees and fell apart one morning all because of the snow.
were you picking up the raisins on the ground? the carrot nose?
sometimes i think we were only meant to die.

and the bars are always full these days
never sure why people want to be lonely together,
sipping gin in a glass they brought from home - trying to recycle.
maybe these are all ways to bring us together,
maybe even to that man named god.
were you screaming for an answer in those drinks?
placing pieces together on the floorboards,
or is your room still foggy like it was when we were
making love on the floor.
(you never did like to be comfortable)

i don't create speeches for those in loss
i never did listen to that man named god.
even when he whispered in my ear that i should love you.
bring us to the things we hate so we can learn to love?
it's never really sounded holy.