He is the first-born of all creation: in him, all things hold together, we sing on the feast of Christ the King.
Oh you are Lord, and your will will be done.
I beg in the same breath: your will be done, be free and
Save yourself from this pain that we have earned,
And stay with me.
Go, go, run away.
The Milwaukee night is cold Miller in a glass,
And I face the outside of the Gesu,
debating, weighing my phone in my hand
I send a different text instead.
What a facade,
What a place to escape to.
There is no escape from you.