Bartender,

pour me another shot of

Video Whiskey.

I’m beginning to be dreary

of my Christ-centered

Cross-bearing Church-going reality

so serve up a tall iced glass

of double feature television illusion.

Thank you.

I feel better when I’m drinking

the liquid lives of others

on the rocks.

I like the fire of hundred ten proof

sex and violence flowing

through my eyes,

sitting at your barstool

in inebriated lust!

Sorry, Lord.

I know your command to be

visually sober, but I can’t help it.

My eyelids make me do it!