Mock

 gazed upon your epidemic
decorating already charted trackless infested primate-fated territories,
and I called conspiracy before the sixes and sevens ever told me,
... oh so faithful martyrs, became a dime a doesn't,
cause even they couldn't barter a good confession from the old man's gory glory,

I never felt mystical, mythological theory so fictitious,
cents-less and well fucking senseless,
while they become wealthy in hearts of blind,
who should know better about fairy tales and wizards,
they belong in coliseums for plays,
and in imaginations of children
you know the ones,
They!-who command blizzards,
so control that fury,
and storm the gates of Vatican,
knock over the pillars of salt,
and everything handwritten,

I Speak like an atheist, think without the help of artificial intelligence,
and I believe in progress and put faith in substantial evidence,
in hopes the parish well actually perish in pairs due to the doing of olden dramatist,
this isn't your heritage,
let go of the "wholly religious" house of representatives,
it's more like the holy only guided,
visions of most self profitable organizations and their preferences,

you're the only deity in your life
you don't need an artist to draw you "a legend"
mapped and guided, pinned to the point of a knife
close your eyes and guess your guess another second