you break and slither
out onto the antiseptic
tile floor
bathing in the
residue of the
the hundreds of billions
that came before you
you **** and spit on
your mother's ****
till you're unhappy
in an underpaying career
with an unloving wife
under your pastor
at 3 am
this is what you've been
programmed for
this is what you get
a world full of
unholy *******
clammering for salvation
with each ******
into your woman's ******
you slipped out a month too soon
they always tell you
--oh, you were just so excited
to meet us! and we were so happy
to have you, my dear--
broke free of the *******
that gave you life
into the ones that
take it away
call it a **** miscarriage
we're all miscarriages
one day or another
some just suffer
and **** a little
more than others
and you want that month back
more than anything
while the reverend is pumping
the holy spirit into the mother
of your nobody children
and this is where we are
this is what we come to
slithering on the tile floor
in the wastes of everyone
else and everyone after
playing patty cake
with the other corpses
till you're home early from work
walking into the guest bedroom
shotgun in hand, just to
split two shells between yourself
and the holy ghost