My tears he drank through grinning lips and laps of hollowed pity. My prayers he swallowed in prideful gulps and bowls of laughing lies.
In broken humility, I followed him still. I called him God. I paid my tithes and rent my clothes.
Before his feet, I laid my broken heart. And in my opened chest, he spat.
This is how my mind sometimes wanders when I'm's [sic] bored.