a linguistic virus...

are these thoughts my own
or have they been falsified by
a linguistic virus

can they read my mind?
has my autonomy been shanghaied by these parasitic.. illusionists
They feed on my family’s freedom

each morning I step into the lion’s den
each evening I return to a spider’s web
at least each pneumonia that floods my lungs keeps me cozy and feverish in bed

your mask has now grown flesh
from a lifetime of wearing deceit -
you lace poison, pollution in our drinking water

a wolf in sheep’s clothing is too kind a picture
I see ravenous plagues, eyeballs pecked and my torso torn apart
you hang me by my ankles above a bloodthirsty mob 
my split ribcage drips blood into the communion 
they gulp my childhood’s potential,
spitting back hypocrisy

below me are smiling women, well dressed men, children in blinders in rows
my brainwaves are overwritten..
we worship like a blindfolded orchestra
I’m lowered to the ground and I hear them sing Amen

I’m patched up but spit on for my immodesty
I wrap my arms around my ribcage and hope my long hair covers my fleshless bones 

my blood refills each Sunday for this vicious mob and
the pastor smiles above me -
he is pale; a vampiric draught of emotion my blood can’t stain his piercing white hair but it
stains the floor I walk on 
it sustains his growing appetite 

crowding begins, I say thank you as he shoves me underwater
hollow applause and wet church socks
is my future safe now, or can hell’s worms still get me? 

I’m home again, a Bible in every room -
who is King James and why can’t I memorize every passage like they want me to 
but veggie tales makes it easy, I like Larry he seems nice. not so much bob 

the earth has rotated about seven more times which means it’s time for them to feed again
the cattle is lined in rows, decorated in floor length skirts and ties 
the women tenderized with black eyes under makeup, seasoned with silence
we sing and praise and worship this deity 
while we’re eviscerated 

gorging on the absence of comfort 
malnourished from the empty calories of being filled by a Holy Spirit 
and missing breakfast 

it’s all a famine of the soul 
they call it religion

~ciara