Why do I
Wear this cross
Knowing full well
There is
Nothing,

Lying
Each time
That necklace
Dangles freely
Off my throat?

Faking
Faith with chains
Which yield
No proof
Or meaning

While believing
God goes missing
Just before
Our time
Should come

Watching jewelry
Sparkle bright
Around necks
Whose collars
Suffer

Flashing myths
To those who witness
Such adornment
Held
Like hope –

Praying fables
Weighted down
Upon shoulders
Weak
From pendants

May excuse
Apparent errors
And relieve
Their certain
Doom

Before sinning
Once again
Thinking heaven
Must be
Waiting

For regalia
Ever doubtful
Through expressing
Fear
In gold,

When old trinkets
Seem absurd
Learning truth
Might warrant
Tarnish

Feeling symbols
Brand impressions
Into flesh
Where silver
Sits.

– J. Pigno

Relieve me
If you will
By assuming death
Convenient
In attempts
To make things better
By agreeing
What comes next

Is the fate
No man avoids
Through each turn
Of final chances
And believing
Sudden pauses
Imply sadness
Life expects

When existing
Just for laughs
Crying loudly
Without reason
Hoping heartbeats
Slowly steady
As disaster
Hits too soon

Where this youth
Has some excuse
If such dreams
Were never healthy
Putting off
Another chapter
Drifting wildly
Towards my goal

Finding feeling
Proves that cure
Testing play
I take for granted
Since all breath
Becomes one moment
Held within me
While it lasts –

Pure emotion
Drawn from grace
While my pulse
Climbs ever quickly
Chasing freedoms
Between illness
God insists
Art cannot fix

Still remembering
Time builds walls
Through expressing
Chains not present
Hidden deeply
Among poisons
After taking pills
With words

Losing semblance
Though I speak
Along paper trails
Mismanaged
During crises
Often easy
Unexplained
Until they pass.

– J. Pigno

God waits
Beyond me now
In a place
I fear
Is imagined

From the minds
Of men more fortunate
To believe
That heaven
Exists

As faith
Doesn’t always stick
When pain
Insists
We are ready

For truths
Which assume
Our courage
Endures what death
May entail

Since feeling
Proves it all
Wrong
While revealing
Logic tattles

On fables passed
Like assurance
Such gospels
Preach
Without sense

Though reason
Often fails
Among numbers
Lacking
Their patterns

Varying
Ever so quickly
If examined
Now
Under prayer –

Despite how sin
Can claim
This uncertainty
Killing me
Daily

I suspect
Some sane
Realizations
Are divinity
Shrouded by hurt.

– J. Pigno

What will I do
With my time
Now that
There isn’t
Any?

Perhaps
Just sit complacent
Jotting poems
If they
Come

While believing
Life may end
Dreaming words
Whose lines
Are comfort

Still surprised
How hours linger
On behalf
Of meaning
Lost

To this hurt
Which mustn’t wait
For some cure
No man
Can fathom

Calling strength
True twisted healing
Without prayer
Some think
As weak,

Though its not
The drug they seek
Or that pill
Such doctors
Promise

Missing faith
In long equations
Balanced only
By our
Fears

Wishing death
Undue delays
Judging God
Like ancient
Magic

Despite answers
Often summoned
From intent
Once chasing
Proof –

Yet instead
Remains unseen
Gifting grace
Beyond
Old shadows

Casting doubt
Upon dark faces
Choosing daylight
Be their
Veils

So each moment
Seems sincere
Growing brighter
Since
Those questions

Might persist
Outside existence
Known by artists
As new
Birth

Feeling blessed
This morning bleeds
Thudding heartbeats
And brief
Pauses

Between headaches
Hope has murdered
Knowing heaven
Can be
Said

Where defeat
Is not unique
Like each symptom
Fate may
Worship

Turning phrases
Into conquest
Via stories
We leave
Here.

– J. Pigno

The light we seek
Is false
As it only leaves us
Wanting
For a moment
Eternally lasting
With safeties
Held in place

Unlike darkness
Since provoked
By that gimmick
Claimed enticing
Ever transient
Through illusion
Of what peace
Just doesn’t stand

As this air
Flees from our lungs
Wasting lifetimes
Soon escaping
Beyond capture
Chasing seconds
Now elapsing
With each breath

Losing days
On simple chores
Missing years
No man remembers
Finding God
Their humble servant
To what numbers
Plague His gift

And demand
We mustn’t sin
Showing protest
If resisting
Such deliberate
Modes of conduct
Deemed befitting
Without chance

Any hope
Should then exist
Praying doubt
Inspires anger
Letting passion
Cast some shadow
Over reason
Proven wrong

Since assuming
Faith can cure
Any danger
Within bodies
Caught between
Two worlds conflicted
Trusting souls
Before our flesh

Where this earth
Is all we face
When these feelings
Only matter
Praying symptoms
Start abating
Staying hurt
But still relieved.

– J. Pigno

I’ve thought about
Getting it
Over with

Dreaming
Of myself
In past tense

Believing
That might
Be easier

Than suffering
A morning
Again

Unable
To shower
Or dress

Sensing
My pulse
Grow erratic

While pressure
Increased
Without reason

Takes blame
From fear
Showing proof

Through numbers
Telling
But fickle

Measurements
Apt for
Disaster

When feeling
Your worst
Every second

Even if
Those pains
Aren’t real

Since death
Does not
Appear calm

Though peace
May follow
Thereafter

Assuming
God isn’t
Guilty

Of lying
How kings
Often do

Watching judgment
End
Our reward

Where forever
Seems
So elusive

Beyond this
Shadow
Still waiting

Agreeing
Light may
Exist

Consuming
One empty
Shape

Convinced
His body
Projected

Can find
Release
Off of panels

Upon lifelike
Walls
Laying flat

Now drawn
By dimensional
Rules

Between hurt
And prayer
Ineffective

To endure
That formless
Existence

As figures
Stuck
On a space.

– J. Pigno

I’ll reply
Online
To avoid my fears
In person
Till the keystrokes
Hide this grimace
Barely worthy
Of real
Eyes

When such dreams
Each finger speaks
Finds new courage
Hitting enter
Sharing stories
Only backspaced
If these hands
Should lie
Some more

Telling strangers
How I’m fine
Even though
Those words
Sit empty
Upon pages
Barely witnessed
Among forums
Marked for dead

Amid places
Left untouched
Hidden well
But always calling
Out to people
Feeling desperate
Where they plead
Without
Much choice

Searching nightly
For their chance
Between voices
Crying lonely
Across venues
Made of shyness
Lighting stages
Bright
At home

Like my spotlight
Gone unseen
Begging roses
Though I edit
Taking bows
While growing
Crippled
Living only
Behind screens.

– J. Pigno