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Conversation With a Christian

Written ~ (05/16/26) · Published ~ (Unpublished)

Uploaded ~ (07/03/26)

Forcing my fist down my throat, to upchuck the vomit you avert from seeing
Shoving your face down in it, forcing you to taste the truth you shun while teaching

Your rainbows and butterflies don't exist in a world of cancer and piss
The tumors squeezing the bowels of those in purity penance—massive cyst

When truth is told and traumas unfold, your non-judgmental doctrine makes you look away
I'll slam my face in the bowels of the rotting corpse of untrue sanctity and I'll pray

I'll pray to God to open your eyes, to the world you hide from and expose the hypocrisy you claim
Basking in this blasphemous buffet of tainted truth and lies, in stained glass halls—I’ll write your name

In bloody cursive of elegant script—the sacrificed mammals slaughtered and scattered
Their limbs mangled and the flesh carved so succulently taunting and tattered

Hide in your little house of prayers and donate your money to liars
All of the wretched bullshit you judge by—all ready to burn by fire

When the hurt share wounds and cry for mercy from overwhelming emotional inventory
You shout about your own discomfort and choose to be deaf to their aching story

"Yea, though you walk in the valley of the shadows of lies"
You pray to the Deity who pleads for you to open your eyes

In haste, you replace faith with comfort and gratification of the self
Impoverished is your soul, for you bring forth no fruit and are bankrupt to wealth

"Hear me, yea though your knees bleed by mourning"
You ignore the discomfort and fail to see warning

Keep then, you ignorant sheep, to dwell on your selfish indulgence
Your spirit dried as bruised fruit, putrefied and rancid—wretched divulgence

"Behold! Look Into the despair of where Lamentational lyrics soothe the speakers"
With their truths revealed, damned be the corrupted ones and their preachers

Feel free to judge as you are so morally upright in all your doings
As the fires burn the flesh of the innocent—captured in glass cases, for your viewings

Tearing the limbs and breaking the ribs, the pultrusion through rotting mammals
All your perversions and brokenness—screaming shrieks of helpless animals

"Oh great one of church going prudence, thank ye for your merciful ear"
When my words sought you, you ran, you shouted and you didn't hear

You only looked inward to what mattered to your view
And it wasn't the love you claimed, so... fuck.... you…

Note:
This poem is a response to hypocrisy.
The “religious” and "faithful for show” proudly declare they align with the teachings of a loving God.
However, when disclosing one’s own past and traumas—especially regarding the church, they shut down due to their own discomfort.
That’s not loving, that’s pure selfishness. This poem is directed to them.