a god called isack

your idols are assholes
and i'm as crazy as patsy
for converting to the wicked games
of this age old religion.
and if i had a giant eraser,
i'd rub out your scratches
from all over this page
'cause i heard the funeral bells
way back in july.
since then,
it's been one hell
of a procession.
hey priest,
this is your own eulogy;
you've gone down
for the very last time.
i've peeled off the buds
so there's nothing more to taste.

a note to the prizewinner

i don't even have dresses
shaded so darkly
as this disappointment...
but i'm pretty sure
blondie wasn't singing about you.
so take this breathless heart
and redeem yourself;
walk away
a champion
and get the fuck out.