Custom Made Backstabber

Paralyzing prophecies sleep in the throats

Of saints who spun the sun while time

Stood , stood still the dreaded tears

Of the spiritual have reduced the angels to

Rust who in turn gouged their eyes blind

With sharpened halo's.the sky rained down

Smoke on their heads and they fled to

Hide their shame in the shadows of wings.

Thieves on the thrones had no trouble

Wishing slumber under plastic crowns as they

Mocked deadly desire. bookshelves

Of blank pages bibles lined the trophy rooms of

Third class gods who had no history .

They were messiahs in no ones eyes ,

Not even blinded angelic ones.

They begged to hang on

Homemade crosses and spit at the

Onlookers who bit their tongues

Behind smiling lips.and they fled to hide their

Shame in the shadows of wings.

Satisfaction the size of cathedrals blanketed their

Wounds from view and not a word

Was said because we knew that both the mime and the

Martyr helped us buy the nails.