If Jesus walked across my belly

would you understand

that I feel

everything that I want to feel

and you see

all the things that you want to see.

I feel what you feel

even though

you won't see what I see.

Let me be

free

and

believe.

If Jesus

murdered me

in my bed at night

while I sleep,

slip

my throat

with the same knife

that he bled

from the straight line

believers

to atheists

would you see

the ghost on

his holy wall

and his sin

(we alone)

Jesus

is a sin

as I am.

If I take Jesus to bed with me

and let him scream out

inside of me

I would carry his abomination

against my womb

because

alone

at night

he walked across my belly;

God

the grandfatherly

gentlemen

grand enough to grind a virgin

(how typical)

Let me say

that I have prayed

that I do love

and find peace.

Let me not bow

down

to a

man

who criminalized me

and my kind

womanly

wonder

against the flesh of a man.

Come

inside of me

you and me

making love against the wall

I guarantee

that Jesus

would scream

like any man

who enters a women.

Sex is not the enemy

little children

who claim

that sin

is the in

and out

of everyone else

as though

you see nothing of yourself

in the rest of the world.

I'm sick of being walked on,

of Jesus

thinking that my window will always be open

for him to come in

and fuck me at midnight

harass me

inside that car

because I was all alone

that morning

when his hands tightened around my neck

breaking me down,

bead

after

bead

of my rosary string

broken

between

the binds that tie

against me now.

Jesus walked across my belly

naked

rank

and came inside of me

and his pleasure

is forever my sin.