i just broke up with my girlfriend, it sucked severely. i had the awesome decency to do it in a e-mail/over messenger, thus assuring me a special place in hell, if there is such a thing. lets take a moment to pray for billy and his vileness.

prose too.

Scraping desperate chalk lines on the muddy tarmac between the remains and red asphalt.

The old church has grown derelict, from nails and wood… it falls into a quiet state of disrepair. Rotting at the holy foundations… could Jesus be found looming between those wormy old pillars… or in the festering alleys out back? Laying to rest those doubts about his resurrection I suppose.
Singing the plague song.
He lived... and the rockets still fell on Hiroshima, God’s design flaw.
I had been a patron here once… back when I wanted to prove something to myself. How phony of me. When the pine was youthful and vigorous… and the weary and faithful were in the church instead of those with religious tendencies.
I suck down some Pepsi… it reminds me of liquid tar. We drink millions of gallons of this vile shit every day, right after we lift heavy metal things on heavy metal lifting devices to look a “certain” way that anorexics tell us to look. Then we drive our heavy metal mobiles over to rotting wood buildings to snake oil praise an ambient, or uncaring God by drinking his Son’s blood and eating his flesh. But some aren’t even there in a show of faith. Its merely become part of a chore… and all that precious viscera is wasted on corporate blasphemers who will seek reconciliation on their filthy death beds from a God that may never hear their pleas.
All they’ll hear is Apollyon’s hymn as they sink beneath the black tar.

A minister had been shot by one of his own clergymen… after the discovering that the priest had been molesting children.
While Jesus rotted in the backseat of my car, pointing out all the hell singers.