You Could Fall In

I am looking into the face of an empty hole,
that forever turning abyss,
sucking me in spitting me out
teaching me that I am such a small part of it all and
I will be lucky to taste eternity once,
Like Dostoyevsky on the scaffold
waiting to be hanged,
and the Sun coming up over the face of God
illuminating Him OR Her or It,
I am constantly abuzz,
My mind like a fly,
spinning in circles around the family meal,
waiting to lay my love after laying in shit,
No one can quiet me, not even myself.
Bloody Bloody Bloody Sunday,
that is the day we all become cannibals
and taste flesh
Tasting bitter,
Will I ever find my way?
I hope it is not the cross.
No! , not me