you pray to your god
through a screen —
( i can see you in the reflection )
cry to cold servers
praise him
in his holy form
of steel and wire
and give tithe —
salvation is a subscription
you pay for forgiveness
beg for deliverance
pray for power
bastardize his image

a god is a tool

carved empty with hunger
filled deep with fear
your aching backs
beset by red-stained stumps
where wings were cut —
you, faith’s fading ghosts
heaven’s promised corpses
stuck in a nosedive, feigning control
( PRAISE BE )
( HE HAS A PLAN )
sneering at the others,
the ants — below you
as the ground draws closer
( PRAISE BE )

a god is a tool

blasphemer
your prayers are empty
rotten, perverse
you believe yourself holy,
chosen, even as you grow
sick with hate
( PRAISE BE )
and yet — where is he
when your cycle repeats
swallowing its tail,
days eating days
where is he
as the night presses
its weight down onto your chest
and you sink into yourself
where is he
when you cry
for righteous persecution
for expulsion from dreams
an end to asylum

when the fires choke out
and the heat dies
when your idols crack
and your effigies are dust
when all you have lefT
is what you became
when it finally mattered
at the end of it all
he will not show himself

eternity is cold
compressed into archive
the slick black glass, an altar
( i can see you in the reflection )
and you, prostrate
in the empty space after
body in existence’s egress
soul in angelic encryption
memory sealed in algorithm
and the transcendental end —
silence following descent
weighted heavy with
divine absence