Think of the holy and enshrined, within the imposing halls,
imagine not the proud edifice, nor the beatified profiles,
Conduits as they are for the idea. That solitary belief,
no matter the derision of the cynic, sans the gilding of the ages.

Beyond those structures, created to elevate an idea,
and now merely holding their place to retain themselves.
Useless would be too kind a cut, Cancer far kinder still.
No longer a pedestal, but a cage of gas and fire.

I'll take my BLT with Cheese, and enjoy a fine shrimp cocktail.
For God understands. Which is why despite all the claims,
despite your eyes upon every nook and crevice,
Despite the eternal punishment you promise for defiance.

Memento Mori