work out your faith.
sermon.
breathing. speaking.
words falling from the lips of this kind of twisted angel,
this hollow-eyed faerie with a wisdom
only the broken beauty of youth can fathom.
“everyone needs a scapegoat.
someone to blame for their troubles,
their problems.
for a lot of people, that person is
god.”
cigarette smoke.
cherry red kiss on the end of her poisoned stick,
carved-out cheekbones, and thick, dark locks
through the silkscreen of toxins,
and I’m reminded of snow white.
she exhales smoke through her nose,
lets it trickle out her mouth.
this incredible dragon queen,
fairy tale creature that she is,
spinning a tale in hazy truth of her own.
this stunning volatile philosopher,
world-worn princess with a cyanide-laced magic wand.
she smiles. she breathes.
“when you pray, when you get on your knees
and beg for mercy,
for deliverance,
for a chance,
for love,
you are the only one who hears you.
there is no god.”
inhale poison. exhale poison.
“there is only you,
voicing your pleas for yourself.
I am my own god.
I am my own divine being,
the only force in existence that can define
who I am,
what I will do,
and what I am meant to be.”
this glowing vision
with her nicotine phrases,
her smoldering gold glances,
this inhumanly lovely thing,
draped in tattered values of days long past
and cloaked in the cynicism of a generation turned bitter
at the sight of a world grown over with
death and war, blood and poverty,
greed and apathy, choking like weeds
in this garden of eden turned desert of hope-hung skeleton trees,
reaching like hands for help,
for pity,
for salvation.
a sigh of secondhand-exhaust. in, out.
“heaven doesn’t exist.
hell is just a myth.
the only salvation to be found
is the kind we invent ourselves.
we justified our raping and destruction of the earth
with the thought that we are
the most intelligent life forms,
and may do as we please.
and when the scars of our crimes
begin to impact our lives,
as we have impacted the rest of the world,
we turn our faces toward the sky,
and ask for help to fix what we have destroyed.”
the burning cherry at the end of her cigarette
sizzles and dies against the concrete.
“it’s total and complete narcissism
versus
our infinite capability to place blame.
you don’t know which is worse.”