well screw you billy bob, we don't need a fucking god .

by Joshua Bartky

"saints used to hear them, crazed lice infested hermits in their caves and deserts ."

people playing god .
we've all seen it, been there done that .
it's the huge erect statues of uptight leaders
more erect than they ever were,
larger than life .

.. freud would be proud .

or else in rigid black dresses,
unwilling to move . stiffly
screaming silently, wrapping around your neck .
never repressive though, no, fuck no.
just helping you to the light;
the light you "don't" try to walk toward, never, forever .

and they ask you to kiss their fucking

feet, but they might as well ask you to lick their assholes .

dirt and corruption grew from their hiccups, fuck ups .

whatever, same same .

never different .
-
and with a smile on your face, you blow out your brains .
oh merciful god .

/i wouldn't have fucking done it if i fucking knew,
now would i ?