the moral instruments

the moral instruments, reflective and repetitious as the chinking chain clicks by

releasing its opaque catholic fumes as the altar refrains from spit and sputter

and the membrane holds aloft this paper thin, he it's always a he, eyes rooted upward

passes from his lips as the mass follows suit, following, oh yes they're very big on following

but less so on reason for reason would say that we value the experience which is shared

but no reason on this blistering of sundays, for it is divine oh sure and they repeat their shared divinity

how callous of me to refuse their hands, their eyes rolled back into sockets the tongues like crows

i who have perverted faith to furrow their brows on, they have practiced this i'm sure

and retooled it so those outside the little cliques may never understand, but i do and it terrifies

how faggots are shall we say not the correct term but fret not because they're due to cook anyway

another thing you get off on, light, but luminosity has been diluted by superstition

and the moral instruments clicked away, how lucky we are, how golden, how shamefully grateful we should be

for how could i love without being afraid, how could i be free without consequence, how could i believe when there is nothing to assure

yet the assurance is vapid, conditional on faith alone which makes you the king of what? oh yes, the ants of the hill

i don't mean to snark, we know how upset you'll get, but somehow through superhuman good will or stupidity you still offer your prayers

so pray on my behalf, brother, sister or whatever we claim to be, and i'll think on yours.