he
wears a cross
made of spears
and a garbage bag
to keep him
warm
at night

he
suffers
only
as man
suffers

we hate him
we love him

it does not
matter

he stays
the same

he
has no habits

he
watches people
walk by

he
has learned
to listen
with his
head down

he
hears in his head
himself disguised
or
a voice
disguised
as himself

no need
to look
at himself
for the space
of who
he is
and who
they say
he is

is a void
as far
as heaven
from earth

in between
the truth
the stones
mark
with scratched
words

a solitary
man's words

he
wears a cross
that bears
his strength
of having
no pride

the reason
it's made
of spears
is to remind
him
of death
day
after day

What the f.

Nice write.

so true