People freaking out about what Jesus looks like

And not what blind faith in this faceless dude

Can do to the people around us

we only become indebted to ourselves

And innocent bystanders

when we bolt our own feet and hands to the crucifix of our mere existence,

We convince our unmediated minds that

It’s not futile if we all believe

There’s a big guy

Watching over us

In the endless sky

For the feeling of emptiness,

when nothingness is all too much to bare

We convince ourselves that the colour of our complexion and the size of our hips

Are adequate measures of how one exists

We often look with our eyes then blindside our minds

Just so that the open sky won’t swallow us whole and shatter our structured bones