Dad, the Jehovah’s Witnesses are Here Again

You fill your cup with dust

And toast to a faceless deity

An insubstantial deity with no motives

So go ahead, make me a believer

Your threaded tentacles grasp at muddy blades of grass

Like the fingers of a drowning child submerged in fate's indifference

A death compounded in fractaline fragments

Cracked and scattered through a hundred piece network

A maze of tunnels stretching from here to my golden patience

So go ahead and give me your forgiveness

Grant me a way out

A path to the light, as it were

Show me the way like I know the core of me wants you to

But you can't really show me anything, can you?

Because it isn't really knowledge you are the master of

Feeling

Flight and intangibility

Fear and fancy

Hot coins meant to make us jump when you throw them

Treats meant to make us dance when you beckon

You pry open our jaws and drop syrup flavored spit into our mouths

And we thank you and beg for more because we don't know any better

So go ahead

Show me the path

It's almost clerical

The way we're all listed by our desires

Exploited in a hormonal mass farm

Harvested, then left to search for a quiet cavity of the world to fade away in

A billion molten heads washed down the drain

Full of emptiness, we are echoes in the expanse of time

Simply recalling the beguiling influence of those who learned to speak

Like you, and the metallic taste on your lips

And so our pitiful, penniless lives waddle on

With a false comfort in conformity to an artificial spirit

It's almost comical

The way we all flow in a stream of mangled identities

Our arms snapped and wrapped around one another

A twisted embrace meant to symbolize the usurped peace of man

Crushed fingers intertwined in a bruised, involuntary kinship

The needle pierces us, sowing us into a tapestry of pain

A brutal flag that stands blowing on a barren plain

So go ahead and sell me the vaccine to your own disease

The anesthetic to be taken straight from the hands of the torturer