“gospel”

ye tainted prophet
of unyielding words,
prick my finger
and let the blood slip out;
the colors of the
birth-giving sunrise
paint my life a golden red.

in his eyes, i am a broken soul
((.and he needs the tuition peeking out
of my back pocket.)).
his philosophies turn my head and
comfort me
while his cunning quietly gashes my delicate wrists.

his deity protects him from the most shameful
sin;
((.and yet, his wrongs pile up
behind closed doors.)).

and still,
i worship him,
ignorant of his satanistic talents.
am i

corrupted?
nay, fraudulence; that is his
method of coercing.

love is the word.