jimminy cricket

reach back into your bag of evolutionary tricks
to kick an idea into production line
time-lapsed photographic emoticon memory
simmering in the glitter graphic attack on destiny
forgive me my sensations this sin is original
but it lacks authenticity and visits less frequently
than the opportunistic holy ghost you host and
toast to your souls impending reincarnation

congregate! but, pray in private you boastful fuck
then pass the buck around until you've got a down-payment
on atonement and stone your neighbor until the savior
has raped enough forgiveness from your sickness
to build a stage high enough to look down upon
all the goddamned flock in the meat locker

all the stock shelved and stamped with good-through dates
at the same going rate as an atom that fell
from your eyes as you slammed them shut forever

let the devil be your scape-goat and shove the
truth to the back of your throat until you purge
wet-cheeked and bruised knees in a cupboard
made for two, divided so the puke doesn't stain his robes
his holiest of holy's clothes that wear like wool
who's the fool, the disease or the leper?

how many hands can you lob off and keep masturbating?
translations are cast spells and soon the house will
vote on a bill to make hell more humane and
people will have to take responsibility by the trigger-finger
and dig deeper to find the meaning in the splatter
the grey is only matter when it's flung past the skull
and the senses dull into an infinite silence

pestilent penitence postulates and propagates
between candidates and mandates created in that space
between the blood and the nerve-ending trend-setting
neural addictions like free will is an accepted boundary

the voice that says: stop, go, start, don't, touch, feel
kill, cry, heal, fuck, pray, condemn and die comes from
inside and out and it sounds vaguely familiar