if religion is
the goal of every human being
then i am the loner,
the outsider.

if religion is
where the preps reside
wrapped in their judgments,
and all those "little white lies"
then in veritate triumpho.

if religion is
the new craze of the season,
and church pews are where they commit
their acts of treason
then the left behind are
closer to salvation
than the "saved".

if religion boils down
to denominations,
to predetermined actions,
and rules and regulations,
then i am the burnout;
capable of so much
but skipping class and being poisoned
by those toxic wasteland fumes.

if religion is the clique,
the cult of the century,
then what about the forgotten kids?
what about the ones who are drowning
with the monsters clawing
our brains
into shreds?

if religion is the "good"
then what am i?
i do good -
i am kind to the "lesser",
and i do not sit upon horses
higher than the drugged and dazed.

if religion is salvation,
then what is life?
what is this time i pass
trapped between the slum-dogs
whom the devout look upon with sorrowful eyes?
who the **** am i to judge
when we're all facing a similar prize,
when all we have to look forward to
is desolation and our demise?

the only thing at the end
is a barren pit of black,
the cold wet ground seeping through
our faulty corpse capsules,
and 'once-upon-a-time' stories'
in which we will all but be
forgotten.

Do we worship a concept
we cannot define

Do we dig for a treasure
that we’ll never find

Is the belief that it’s there,
enough to forge on

In perpetual failure,
no words to our song

Do we feel we’re the closest
when the bottom falls out

To be left further back,
and then bandied about

Does it even exist,
is it worth all the pain

The searching and fighting,
and what’s there to gain

Enduring the hardship
its pilgrimage holds

Because life without truth,
all body—no soul

To die unenlightened
and scarred from the search

Still a legacy worthy
—in veracity’s church

(Augustinian Cemetery: September, 2020)