Prayer of St. Augustine



The Soul of Peter
In relentless pursuit of me
I kick up my feet,
Toes tickled by stale cigarette smoke
Sipping cold coffee, I sigh
“The universe is condemned,
Save your breath,
Not me.”
Paul is still blind, I see,
On his high horse,
Degenerate healer
Still tasting blood in his mouth.
Loud shouts of victory
Echoing through eternity,
Bullheaded conviction
That they couldn’t fail.
Perched on my fickle throne,
A second-hand loveseat,
That’s always been a
Seat for one, I smile,
“Save yourselves, today,
And come back for me tomorrow.
I’m holding out hope
For a better story.”

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