How many nights have I laid awake this way, staring at the ceiling,
Wondering how many millions more people are waiting for the pills to kick in, waiting for 
      This all to pass, stuffed to the skull with some chemical, doing just about anything—
Scratching their skin, squeezing their eyes shut, uttering prayers
To exorcise whatever is stuck inside. 

And I know the tongue in my mouth tonight is not mine, but it’s familiar and I’m kissing a face I’ve seen
Before. I see him manifest in a dream with white light shooting out of his skin, with soft arms      
That are meant to absorb me. I see him when I’m awake and wonder if he’s a good fuck. I suspect                     
He is. I marvel at my own perversion. And I marvel at the Virgin Mary
     Kneeling before me at the foot of my bed with her hands clasped in a pale orb. I beg for 
Forgiveness. 

I dream about my ex-boyfriend. I dream of his stomach and his
Hands.
            And in sleep, “I’m sorry” is a heavy bullet lodged in my lungs. My 
Subconscious finds the weight of him unbearable. But I tell myself he’s sorry.

I dream of my own death. I haunt my father and watch him cry and pray for
Me, the way I always forgot to do. The way I’m afraid I’ll forget when someone 
Really needs it.

I wonder if no one prays anymore. I look at the Virgin and question her as I do my heresy,
     Dreaming with adulterous apathy. I denounce God and condemn the Atheists, piercing her forehead,
But she levels me with a glance and I cry out as if He can hear me pleading, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I contort        
My body into a bone-cracking shape when I think of Jesus Christ and I imagine a crown of thorns Cutting into my abdomen. 

Nothing will exorcise me tonight, but the drug-induced dreams will
Stay clung to my body like invisible leeches. And I’ll only pray when I’m scared.

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