There is a God. I have seen him snap the necks
Of children and inspect their hollow remains.
Pushing past the sinews, there is nothing there.
No prayers clogging the arteries, stopping the rush
Of blood, a blackened jet.
Their mouths had not yet learnt how to
Form 'hail mary's'. Tongues twisted at the sound.
The syllables choke.


There is no use lying to a child who when asking
For God, finds only silence.


He is not interested in them. The purity sickens.
There's a boredom in innocence that causes him
To turn away. His eyes are better fixed on those
Who can praise him. The shallow whore who never
Thought her life would take this path. Legs opening
To receive the golden coins that her greed is attracted to.
The eternal magpie offerers up her soul, asks for
Deliverance, and God, being the greediest of all, basks
In her devotion.


This is worth listening to. Each prayer a pearl that he counts.
His own personal rosary. Saved this one, heard another.
He doesn't think about the thousands who don't know where to
Put their faith.


Children suffer eternally for their silence.
God suffers none for his.