Lame of God;

Hard to do anything nowadays and be remembered for it

Let alone feel it

Unless you’re making $25 million off the box office premier,

Murdering 20 people at the supermarket,

Or becoming president, VP, or Secretary of Defense

And making the saber rattle.

At one point you could take pride in being a nodule

In the community

Could manipulate the steel all day

Collect change at the toll booth

Measure & feel or

Teach the next generation to do the work and feel the fire

Of the dead heat

Come home and trim your nails

Fuck your wife and

Water your house plants

Feeling alright as you deaden and doze.

Nowadays the food’s not even feeding

Just forever-chemicals and microplastics

The kids married off to the quick eats

And search engines

Laughing at the lack of quick wit

I’m not laughing

Kids no longer grow up the sides of mountains

The bark like the brim of a ball cap

Christ is in your Happy Meals

Christ is in your Monopoly money

Christ is in your $400 sneakers.

Each breath feels like a meal I skip.

Each breath is a meal I skip.