kitchen crises

the hot pan seared my

tender flesh

and i cried and wailed

as clear pus rushed to fill

the fluid sac forming to chill

the scalding burn,

and as i nursed

my tender hand

i sat watching the oven

containing the lamb

its skin fizzed

and bubbled up crisp

and that same clear pus burst

from the sac formed to resist

the searing heat burning it

to a crisp,

and i wondered a while

how we came to believe

that god ever intended

for this to be?

for man to murder

and cook up flesh

this world was such

a sorry mess

that flesh in there

the very same as mine

pussing and blistering

but we say “it’s fine”

and that’s all in

god’s design

but didn’t hitler

think the very same

when he murdered jews

that were not worthy

to reign

according to god,

didn’t he say?

aren’t we just like him

in lesser ways?

god didn’t design this

eternal hell

he created for us eden

which man decided to sell

and once all the fruit tree’s

were no longer there

the entire world fell hard

into despair,

murder became common

cannibalism too

and although that was outlawed,

we slaughtered animals too

telling ourselves that we have

dominion

with no understanding

of its meaning

just parroting some

inherited opinion,

it’s immensely wrong

and it’s not okay

and it’s sickening

us all into decay

but addiction runs deep

and virtue’s not cheap

and so the infection

continues to seep

from nation

to generation

en masse abomination

leading us all

towards hell’s station,

it’s a theme park

to all who are blind,

a concentration camp

to those with right mind

we don’t get out

unless we come together

we can’t escape,

i fear we’re in here forever

so can I gently wake you up?

can I try?

is it too much?

i know it’s painful

i know it’s hard

but so is living behind

prison bars,

you can do it

I believe in you

i know you can change

because I did too