I can feel

- the s-p-a-c-e between seconds

In the quagmire silence

As you get on your knees to pray to invisible gods

My apologies- GOD

Your lord is a possessive bastard

Suckling deference like an infant on his mother's breast

So I watch

A heretic marring the purity of {childlike} faith

- contemplating your hypocrisy

Obsequiousness and egotism, paradoxical twins

Tortured confessions drip from your filthy tongue

{forgive me, father, for i have sinned}

Yet you project yourself into a void with the same penitent breath

{dust speck screaming its importance to an unyielding world}

After an eon

- or perhaps two milennia

You rise, cloaked in hollow righteousness

I can only see the martyrs' blood pooled at your feet.