Las cebras parecen tristes bajo la lluvia

Cold spring

The embellished hallways smell like dust and subordination.

The embellished people smell like pocket change and hate.

Pews are in an orderly fashion, like their minds, their hearts,

Their souls following strict rules.

Propaganda.

They’re speaking in tongues. A Godly occupation.

I’m speaking in tongues. My own opinion.

They stand

Like robots and zombies unaware of

The murder,

The hate,

All in the making of the Holy Scripture.

They follow

A God who killed the entire planet of

Murderers

Haters

Or, no, was it nonbelievers?

A God who killed the entire planet of

Pollution and impurity against His own word.

The absolute.

I believe

Hate lives in the sinful and the unsinful. The Holy Scripture.

The rapture?

By all means, take them home.