One For The Demigod Atheist by John Sweet

a river through the desert,
late december,
this dust-colored sky at sunset,
these silent houses down dead-end streets

church spires and the taste of road salt

accidental overdose behind
the car wash

got a houseful of true believers and
a can of gasoline

got a hidden camera to film the
blow jobs and the payoffs

55 hours a week at the blood factory
and your hands no longer
wash clean

man at the door tells you you’re
                            the wrong color,
                            the wrong sex,
tells you to turn your pain into
performance art and then
maybe he can help you

tells you electric guitars
are a thing of the past, so stop whining
about the goddamn stones

stop pretending cobain was ever
anything more than just another
                        fucked up suicide

says it leaves a pretty bitter taste in the
back of your throat when all of these
facts told in anger end up
                          being true
you piss and you moan and then you
wake up hungover and drive
yourself to work

winter threatens to last forever

christ plans his comeback

has a list of assholes he’d love to
see nailed to the cross

tells you your name’s at the top and
then he’ll work
his way down from there

john sweet, b 1968, still numbered among the living. A believer in writing as catharsis. an optimistic pessimist. Opposed to all organized religion and political parties. Avoids zealots and social media whenever possible. His latest collections include A NATION OF ASSHOLES W/ GUNS (2015 Scars Publications) and APPROXIMATE WILDERNESS (2016 Flutter Press). All pertinent facts about his life are buried somewhere in his writing.

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