I Search In Dreams

I pray to that dead criminal Jesus - to set us right - restore us. We’re a mess - like spilled salt - remember the fresh air of freedom? In dreams I search - there must be a cure lying around somewhere.. Eyelid shades open on chiaroscuro lit, moody mornings. I keep my head down I’m doing my fey best, to let nothing touch me. . . . . ** Note: I was raised a Catholic. Jesus wasn't crucified by some accident - he was executed as a criminal - that's just a fact - not an attack on Christianity - I would never attack a religion.. except maybe Scientology... that was a JOKE!! aarrgghhh! If poetry is art (I rather think it is) then one purpose is to engage and provoke emotion - I confess that the first stanza is meant to engage the reader.. hhhmmm.. maybe too much? I AM a beginner - after all.