CRYTOGOD

Ripe fruit in the summertime
So close to calling you mine
Holding hands as we dance
In my mind we were in France

You used to laugh at my jokes
Now you laugh at me
I used to think you were one of those blokes
Who would say what they actually mean

I was down on one knee
I was tying my shoe
When I looked up at you
I swear it drowned out the whole room

Then you left me in the middle of the fall
Screaming “where the fuck did you go?”
And when I need someone to call
There’s no one there

I know I’m a pseudo Satanist
You called my bluff on my Christian hand
I swear I left all that in the Southwest
You found yourself in the desert
Unimpressed

I know you never wanted to say
There was something bigger than you
Even when a deity flew around the room
And possessed you
And it’s not in my power to reprimand a pastor
But fuck him for what he did to you

When it’s two a.m. I can’t make clear
Am I crying about high school?
Or my grandparents’ death?
Am I crying over you?
Or are these tears not even real
They’re not even here

I wake in a sweat
In a life that is left to chance
Cause whether it be by my hand
Or a playwright’s guess
There’s no telling why I haven’t already died

I cry to god cause you’re not here
And in the emptiness is my own love
Something I hold high above
It’s not him with a capital
It’s the world beyond what I know
And it holds me

And it is me