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Seattle Dumps

Some god you've
Turned out to be--
Every bit the angry
Unhappy child, all
Jeans with blown out knees,
Stringy, dirty blonde
Hair framing heroin eyes.

You gave your disciples
All that they would ever
Love about you--
Incoherent rage and
Pointless despair and
Tabloid headlines for months
On end.

For all your mediocre genius,
Your apostles line up
Before the cross to which
They nailed you, offering up
Lives that have not yet found meaning
And accounting even less value
Before your splatter-headed
Divinity.



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