Although his mouth moves
Making shapes that form letters orchestrated
to make out a facade of gospel,
I hear differently.
What is heard is not the love of a man who died pure and faithful, it is not even the nails that pierced his sides so many years ago.
No.
It is death, it is lust,
It is what
Could never be and what never was
It is not that man came from dust
It is that evolution does
Such a good job at making it hard for us to see
Just what we are able to destroy, he laughs
at us mockingly.
I’d love to think we could all trust somebody
But that’s a bit hard to do when
he walks around free
Who is he?
What has he done?
He has no name, yet he plagues everyone.