Salvation of a bee sting

Death will rattle

so let’s breath fire

to scare it away

and leave smoke

that lingers after

we’re gone

and after Death realizes

we weren’t trying to burn away

but instead

trying to burn a way

to something other

than the ash

we become

*

Salvation is a poor excuse

and a whore of hope

who licks my wounds

for the price of pain

using rat poison

which I’m thankful for

because I don’t want vermin

and then gives me spirit

when I ask for a drink

and soon the walls spin in this church

for the wine was too good

and it reminded me of this girl I loved

a real miracle

and I’m on my knees

having an exorcism

and waiting to be saved

but the toilets clogged with

holy water that’s spoiled,

chunks of flesh

that look like bread,

and hope for something different,

or maybe that’s just unsullied

toilet paper

which could’ve been scripture

if there was a better world,

one that wouldn’t need scripture

or salvation

*

Civilization is not in

our nature

or so the bee

that wedges itself in between

my sandal and my foot

tells me

before it takes out

the world around it

with its

life.