Dark Artery

Run away if you must—
Heaven and Hell are just

a hand’s breadth apart;
a dark artery

between them in your heart.
Needing to bleed something

means you’ll meet with them
since your pain is art;

scars lines of a poem.
Men wearing nothing but

bad attitudes put
you into the mood

to take control and own
their naked, bestial

parts thrown to desert
highways, then depart.

Never stop; leave them all
kneel’n’ in your cathedral.

Freedom comes when you
meet someone lost, too.