Threesome

The altar sits empty but ready for ritual

We drink his blood and confess our sins

But there is no pastor here to listen

Breaking bread alone in the dark

Vinyl choirs sing our hymns,

licking loudly in the little church

Crooked crucifixes formerly afixed fall with flair

The altar fills with our sacrifice

Our body's like hands

folded in prayer

We pray

We repent

We are the father, son, and holy ghost

Conjoing in cohesion into one pure host

Wine stains our backs in self-flagellated stupor

The smell of silverfish and age old ink melds with sweat

Sacred texts torn asunder in remembrance of our innocence

Amen, to the prayers for a sinful sunrise