Waning appetite of faith-junctions betrothed.
Relaxing, embracing tapestries lost.
Misplaced versions of stark archetypes,
Leaning, beleaguering, vacating thin veils
Of guilt-shed sin on vandalized walls.
We wait. Fake. Deface.
Glorified perversions of angst-ridden blame,
An upheaval of martyrdom
We wait like frost-white dalliances of hate.
Mirrored truths of disingenuous praise.
Succumbing, shedding insidious skin.
Forlorn ashes of dead souls,
Simmering, frothing, bequeathing tastes
Of half-sighed lies on brittle-dry lips.
We drink. Sink. Relinquish.
An artifact of fate
We claw like wolf-thieves approaching the gate.
Repenting diatribes of angelic malaise.
Atoning, dethroning serpentine reign.
Heralded saints of banished restraint,
Bleeding, careening, embattling faith
Of deaf-toned harps on bleak magistrates.
We pour. Scowl. Implore.
An advocate of priesthood
Who better than Jesus on Calvary’s hill?