Contact the author: popcultureslut@hotmail.com

Pink Slip Messiah

I watched
my Mother and Mastiff
die
and contemplated
regicide.

I searched for you
with a torch
in the daylight:
inspecting the
blood-stained
scales of meat
in slaughterhouses,
looking under
hoods of
antique cars
parked
in cobblestone
streets,
peeling off
the onion-domes
of cathedrals
until
my eyes
burned.

And I knew
no rest—
earplugs for
sleeping
couldn’t silence
the demons
in my head
screaming
for vengeance.

I soldiered on
using plastic
yellow straws
to suck all the
God
from every
nook and cranny
of the earth.

And when
I’ve exhausted
every corner
of the globe,
and expose you
in your
purple robe—
a charlatan
with
chicken wire
crown—
it’ll be
my turn
to pass
judgment.

I’m putting
you
on notice.

© 2007 Aaron Bayley