Stubs

I am keeping the stubs,
I am searching for the truth,
I am bored, I am a lost soul,
I am not in control of lonely,
Or in control of empty,
Or ready to be buried,
Six feet under,
Six days until the thunder
Comes, a six day war O you
Jerusalem, an insane asylum—
A peeled onion,
I am pain and the
Tears and the layers
And layers of Kodak
Fears—picture me God,
Less lonely, less sad,
Less of a boy, more of a
Man, I picture it,
I stub it,
I tear it off and
Keep it—I look at the
Truth—do not tear that
Off and throw that away—
All I have is stubs,
I search, I thirst,
And seek for the whole
Picture

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