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Dead Jesus Rodeo (under all yall heads)
Enveloping blackness strangling silent
crusty eyes glued shut by rusty tongues
the rage inside burning cold and skittish
sweat pouring off broken promises
soaking this stolen mantle
perfumed by the blood of the guilty.
Am I another?
tattoos of childrens laughter
covering my bloated torso in kalaidescope
colors of my sullied past
making me remember when I wanted
nothing more than my fathers forgiveness.
they all say I'm crazy.
Am I my mother?
She wanted to die too
drowning in a cherry pool of
lies and witches spells
transmuting gold to shit
just to annoy their kinder bretheren
the ones who practice genocide
in the name of the holiest of holy
the one who cast out the liberator
for nothing more than wanton pride,
as some wayward souls feel.
Sometimes I think theyre right.
Am I a brother?
