Gods created men
and left.
Now there are men,
men who made Gods.

Gods from Rocks,
Stone, sand, pebbles, wood.
From anything,
Anything they lay upon.

The bare wrinkled limbs
Carving divine eyes,
Celestial lips…
Giving Gods their halos,
and heavenly colors.

We buy our Gods.
And devout
to crafted Dolls.

… Built by same men
the same soiled, flawed
***** hand.
The sweat smelling stares.
Chiseled between foil alcohol,
inches of day break suns,
wax filled dark and
blinding ovens.

Minute granting forever.

And what do we bow to?
The Gods, or
Men who made Gods.

What have you been seeing,
You poor disgusted being.

By the road,
below stale black cloud.

On the wall,
busy people.

with blinky little gape.
waiting...
for spare scrape.

You are now entirely mine
Formally shown through
Bite marks and scratches
And when, or before, they fade
I will kindly issue you more
On that previously flawless skin of yours
Sleek, toned muscles, on a thin frame
Warm hands, moving against me
Or tied down with silk ribbons
Entirely mine to command

Anxiously awaiting
Hands practically shaking
For that simple notification of
"you have a new message"
And Im checking again
Even though I know nothing's there
Still hasn't responded, yet
It was a simple, harmless question
And yet, so very important

Oh, so you're engaged now?
To him I suppose.
Weddings in two weeks
I guess I'll be there.
Sure I'll wear a dress.
But it will be black.
We have all told you
To do what best for you
And we meant leave him.
I'll wear this same dress
To your funeral

Little girl. Four years old.
Pretty dresses. Dry those tears
Time for pictures
Mommys little doll.
Pretty little doll
Gets attention now
Soak it up while you can
Looks are all that matter
In the "flashing room"
Sit still while I do your hair
Make up too
Don't you dare move

•••

Little girl. Five years old
Get down from that tree
Good girls don't get *****
No, don't play in the mud
**** you
go to your room

•••

Little girl, nine years old
Here's your cell phone,
Mommy won't be home today
Make sure your sister does her homework
And clean up from dinner
I made up bottles for your brother
Don't stay up too late

•••

Little girl, eleven years old
Too pretty for your own good
I'm your moms friend,
Trust me
It won't hurt,
Stay still
Be a good girl
Take those clothes off for me

•••

Little girl, twelve years old
You hold it like this
Now inhale,
Let the smoke fill your lungs
Hold it for a minute
Exhale
Doesn't that feel good?
Here, have a drink