Full Metal Jacket Communion
Published in
1 min readMay 14, 2014
I know what cold steel tastes like
served with hyperventilating prayers
the aroma of lead on my fingers
my last chance at communion.
I begged you to stop me
from indulging
a final grace and
your only reply was silent consent.
I deserve someone better
with whom to break bread
than a god of my own creation
for whom I’ll reserve this lead.