Back in my late teens

watching captain noah,
the ark a rusted tin can,
drifting on a sea of cheap beer,
cheaper whores,
and regret.

carter merbreier says i'm too old.

now watching the television static,
snow blooming
on the screen, mirroring the blizzard
in my head.
no school cancelation yet.

fighting a demon of sexual repression,
a fat priest with a smirk
and a rosary made of barbed wire.
i had a bible, thumbed-through,
eagle eyes,

but i can't think of a verse,
not a single goddamn one.
i open the bible and all the pages
are blank,
a stark white mirroring

the emptiness.
the words, the promises,
all evaporated, leaving
only the bitter taste of ash
and failed devotion.

i'm ashamed, so i jacked off,
a frantic scribbling
on the blank page of
the gospel according to joe,
a desperate attempt to fill the hollow,

a pathetic,
pale imitation
of grace. 

carter merbreier says i'm too old.