While Worms Pray to Fish Shaped Gods

The man
who stole that hand sanitizer
from our lunch room
probably drank it,
cleaned his insides in a way
most rational people don’t have any nerve
of considering on those Tuesdays
when the hours work with tiny mouths
pressing against pre-paid coffins.

No one
seems to care either way,
but I expected that,
expected the apples to keep falling
while worms pray to fish shaped gods
and fear devils sharp as hooks.

Leaving humanity so sure of its ending
they will tell any god with blue hair
it’s a figment of brain death
when they die
because they refuse to ever be
wrong, and would rather fade to black
than allow their misspelled name
upon a gravestone to preach to a world
that stopped listening
long before they were born.