Directions to a Faith for the Faithless
To get there, suck your ichor back
from the mouth of your old favorite
blue eyed blonde haired angel
fucker. It will feel divine
to leave her a sad, shriveled sack
so make sure you don’t do that.
Divinity has never been a friend
and won’t be, where you’re going.
Your drop of blood reclaimed,
go to the deepest woods you know
and spit in the eye of your family.
Then join a twink on some balcony
so you can mooch his hard seltzers,
all for the moment you see yourself
at last, in the eye of a pet gecko.
Its golden sclera will seethe,
being the sole refuge of a pupil slit
when it envelops all: The Royal You
who thought gold was a friend, either
until it all gives way to black.
Come to, and realize you never slept
but would be better for it if you did.
Shake the feeling of being pranked.
You weren’t pranked. You were
a prank. Put yourself on a clothesline,
not to dry, but to pretend you want to.
Captured in breeze, you might score
a new angle. Acute goodness
from a whim. She has what you need,
but for now, has a narrow view.
She will pretend she doesn’t see you
so make sure she does. Meet first.
Then feel the length of your best digit
as it spans her whole jaw. Recognize
the power of bone, how noble you weren’t.
You may be in love, but take a breather
before you speak. Do not try to swallow
any geckos. Neither are appropriate
on a first date. So don’t stop there.