Thursday, April 6, 2017

THE DECLINE OF WESTERN CIVILIZATION

It's a little private superstition of mine—
that it's better to hang
the wrong man
than none,

and that no matter how much
on-demand
internet TV I while away
the night with,

my modular future
still is both
fixed and indelible—as if
God's ghost (an irascible,

southern-Gothic bogeyman)
still lives out there,
haunting the beautiful
thick, twisted forests of my atheism.

I'm perfectly comfortable—
letting some old
fisherman go to hell
in my place

for catching and killing
millions of innocent fish.
Meanwhile, I'll be
damned if I'm not

going to sit here and eat them
when they're
already dead. I didn't harm them.
Might as well profit.

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