Wednesday, January 21, 2015

connected and addicted

yogi  tears
and the sound of ujaii breath
conferring ecstatic silence
behind  prison walls
that smell like home
and maybe urine
to practice
and preach
human connection

taking up my own cross
embracing my own

asana led in the halfway house
only to find
the weekend sluts
and the greedy druggie
look like me
mirror gazing
at the inner
the one jesus loved

so they sit
in lotus
all satisfied

a woman
chin in hand
she knows more than she'll ever understand
getting high, drunk and horny
each night
it's the same

and each morning we salute the sun
praying to a god
who might crucify our minds
and prostitute our loss
making us weak

with repetition
and a fistful of


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