Evidence is all we ask.

he lives in a glass house
      suspended on a crucifix that
      hangs around his neck,
      tattooed on his forearm.
throwing stones, swallowing
sermons shaped like pills.
They go down so easy, don't they?
Just like thebooksthehistories; the flames tasted them and refused to cough them up...

partake in petrified, pallid
flesh—fresh-squeezed wineblood.
O Lord, the road to salvation is paved with absurdities
and worse, we know they're deadly (serious).