Transubstantiation
And it came to pass that
the body of Christ
has been wedged in your
esophagus for the
past two equinoxes
Scriptures and parables
echo off your teeth, over-
powering the formation
of palatal and velar
consonants
You can't even say His name
or His father's name
His blood trickles
down your corporeal
caverns, leaking like a
corroded pipe, blocked
by His body
Just enough trickles to
make you wonder why
you traded your Bible for
bubblegum and if the
ozone layer is merely
God's bathroom
Do stars combust with blasphemy
or are they unrelated
Either way, you suddenly
understand that Death
occurs when you can
fully swallow and digest
Him
Heaven is the glass of
ice cold water to wash
Him down, river rapids
rapturing towards your
poor empty stomach
And if there is no glass of water
for God's sake, don't swallow
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