I felt God creep onto my shoulder
worming up my spine
snaking across my shoulder blade
before slithering and burrowing
into my shoulder

perched like a Gothic cemented gargoyle,
whispering adages like a scratched CD
I felt each repeat with a wince in the breach
of melody.

I try to take in my brother's words
with my full attention
but God is a gargoyle
perched upon my shoulder.

After awhile,
the weight becomes unbearable
and I'm wondering where Lucifer is
so to even the tension

but the wretched old gargoyle
sinks in ever deeper
and his voice now rises
from a hush to a raspy mutter.

He gargles the truth like he's
spitting out bloodied gravel
teeth cracked and tongue blackened
from the dirt and grime so caked

around his crusty lips twisting
rhyme and reason but I'm really trying
to listen to my sister tell her story
but God is a scornful old gargoyle
perched upon my shoulder.

His voice now rises from
a murmur to a shout
as fire and brimstone burst from
his foaming mouth

like a southern preacher
red-faced
saliva-stained corners of lips
snarling brandishing fangs

gnashing of coarsened tongue
whip crack snapping my thoughts
in
half
pouring dicta down the back

of my throat feeling
like mucus dripping slowly
preventing one from swallowing easily.
Adam's apple dances like a walk

across burning coals blindfolded--
desperate to focus, I lean in and
nod appropriately
to my good friend

ever hushed but in full confidence
of me as a listener and a confider
but God is a red-faced bespittled
Gargoyle perched upon my frail shoulder.

A shout now gives way to a shrill scream
as the behemoth grips the outer ridges
of my ears, sticks his head in
my ear canal and with a noise

travelling from ***** to stomach to chest
to throat and through the gaping mouth,
a deafening bellow penetrates my eardrums
as God curses me and my friend

to eternal damnation
for listening to such sinful acts
whilst holding "truth"
in my mind

like a forgotten check in the back pocket
of jeans in the rinse cycle at the laundromat
God, with jagged nails digging into cartilage
pulls wider sticks head in deeper

calls me a hypocrite,
and my friend:

******, ****, ******, liar,
cheater, blasphemer, drunk, *******,
adulterer, murderer, idolater, Democrat

unlovable.

I feel a tear reach the corner of my eye,
not because of a heart broken
for my friend's pain,
but because of the agony within

the stoop built of mortal flesh and bone
breaking down under the weight of
a vehement gargoyle claiming to be God
perched on my brittle shoulder.

The creature: abdominous, archaic,
feeding off ancient histories
embedded within fathers and sons
the passing of the torch obligatorily
  
handed down to every child
a Christmas present in the gleam of a golden cross (calf)
Mother and Father's heads lean in
with a smile stretched across their faces

watching as a curious youth
admires with awe
a shiny slender creature
bug-eyed

pearly teeth
looking up in fascination
crawls up onto your shoulder
at once so novel

but now you break down.

Standing up, you grab the ghastly gargoyle
around the waist--
he squirms and writhes
in your grip, hissing and spitting

its sick venom in your eye--
the creature living no longer
with childlike contempt
but with eyes opened to

its hatred and malice
you fling the beast so vile
from your presence
casting it into oblivion

you shed the weight
of such evil
and you sit down
to finally hear of your kinfolk's plight.

Wallowing in the throes of its host's absence,
the parasitic quadruped seeks behind the darkness
its next meal of mortal flesh and blood
amongst shadow armies of death: ravenous, cunning.
Legion.