Poof* Take MY water

for the entirety of my existence
i have wondered why
evangelicals cling so lovingly
to heaven as a tupperware party
and hell as an infinite cesspool of punishment
opposite the sky
…it is for these reasons
they need to believe there is a reward for the suffering humans endure
and
that there exists a place
worse
tailor made for the evil person thriving amongst us
a place for them
worse
than a village filled with the swollen bellies
of fly covered dying children
worse
than one of hitler’s gas chambers
worse
than a vivisection tent during the civil war
where slave women had there genitals
hacked apart by confederate doctors
worse
than the screams and stench of a chicago
slaughter house in 1879
worse
than the hands of a pedophile
worse
than the greasy mouth of a politician
somewhere
worse
than
this
life
con-artists hustle
jive and shuck
til the day they die
because snake oil
doesn’t offer a retirement plan
i once had an old lady charlatan in middletown
who was trying to invade my wallet
by attempting to convince me
that she
was psychic
she could deliver messages from my father
if i wanted
that she could speak to the dead
she went by the name carmen
but her real name was brenda brewer
which made her less than mystic
the authentic require no gimmicks
she said the afterlife was like the movie ghost
they’re walking around us and aware
we just can’t see them
my response was this:
if you’re truly psychic
you already know i’m not giving you money
and as to the ghosts of the dearly departed
walking amongst us aware
what was to be learned or gleaned from that
other than how often the living close their doors
to masturbate
find some unquestioning sucker
to sell your sloppy wares
this medusa
harbors no illusions
i know
my face will soon be emblazoned
upon the shield of athena
but oh, perseus,
such a magnificent time we had
unleashing pegasus and chryasoar
from my womb
into the world
your sword the midwife
my little gifts from poseidon
after his night holding me down
in the temple
my snake tattooed neck
veritable, indeed
does miss being attached to my slinky body
these men who sought the enchantment inside my head
who dared my fatal gaze
crossing mountains tops
with a plan to die
remain a species of statue
not fully unraveled into stone
they are a sort
who despite there stillness
summon the water
to weep