on sunday…
i watch you worship
genuflecting to the sky
in a mockery of selfless submission
the robes of faith
tucked and folded beneath your arm
unmarred by the sweat of toil
or the blood of sacrifice
idol in your pocket
brass in the likeness of gold
and your sore lips
occasionally pressed to its round face
stripped and panting
making love to your hero
splayed and bent
offering your body
in a lustful act of penance
erect in your glory
stained with your own favor
and your words
pronounced with love
spoken in the tongue of lies
your devotion like unto a deity
with only fleshy remnants
of a war within your swelled head
divine bribery
such a sweet offering to him
a child in the guise of man
a whore who thinks himself a nun
and your god
a pornographic picture
of an ageless boy
your dark eyes alight
with boyish delight
while you declare yourself pure
as sunday's child