Illustration by Gabrielle Conlon

September smells like rain on my window–



yeah I know about those.

I’m wondering what I’m worth in prose.

And is this the life I chose,

or simply where life,

it flows?


Maybe I’ll get to heaven,

but not without my sins.

They weigh me down,

stones they make this crown.


what’s it really about?


yeah I’ve got my doubt.

Those angels,

with their gilded wings,

They don’t get it,

why the rain–it stings.

Too busy with their

lofty dreams,

puppet strings,

higher things.


Oh Lord,

what’s the point of it?

Yeah we point at it,

but what is it?

Yeah we curse and

we scream

for the fun of it–

but I am done with it.

Heat so hot

I shiver and shake,

souls so lost

they quiver and break.


I scrounge around for the powers that be,

but oh Lord–

this pain,

yeah it’s conquering me.

No light in this tunnel.

Hold tight to these hands.

I’m trying,

oh God,

can’t you understand?

The depths of this ocean,

the hands I have chosen,

my lungs they are frozen.

There are eyes, God,

tugging at me,

pulling me to a bottom,


that I can’t see.

Haunting me,

Lord what does it mean?

All these demons in the sky,

yeah they laugh

‘til I cry.

And when I wake up,

it was all just a dream,

but Lord,

Lord what does it mean?