The innate instinct of God is to consume
All He creates
All He speaks into existence with His fetid breath
Is to die and be devoured by soil
The dead are consumed
Excreted to feed the mangled pelt of the earth
And consumed again
In this endless cycle of death
Adulation is extorted
Praises are bled
From the ever-crackling throats of a wheezing proletariat
God ingests and creates in substitution
All substitution degrading
Ingested once more
Our beautiful, serpentine god rests
Coiled atop the universe
Ouroboros of shit
Crying out and striking as the infant does
Crying and striking
As the Holy Petulant Infant does
Blessed are we, His children
Inasmuch as the young crocodile is blessed to be the sustenance of its mother
We, given in baptism to His holy saliva
We, purified within His divine gut
We, reborn, crawling from the profane yolk of His ebullient feces
May the exalted stench of His afterbirth guide us into each others' arms
As we cower beneath His ever-flowing tears
Of Rage
And Sulfur
And Sewage
O' Lord, all powerful and bankrupt of shame
Whip our backs and take us into Your frail arms
To chew our weeping faces
To pass us back into the sour soil
Again and again
Forever
There was only ever one design: Suffering