Tithing

It has more to do with
your denial than
my deviance
I know my addictions
I know I am a whore
but if
Joan of Arcadia can publish poetry
and
Porn stars can write novels
and
Mini-me can make a sex tape
why does it always take
flesh to raise the dead 

All this happiness
is so easily lost on me
I can only look on helplessly
as you bend the angel over the altar
just to ejaculate into the tabernacle
I cannot go on calling
death
love
blood is all I have left to give