Tithe

Cancerous growing straight for the heart.
"Oh, please" begs the patient,
"Whom will do their part?"

"Not I," says the doctor

"Not I," says the nurse

"Not I," says the tumor that is dying of thirst

Malignantly making its way to the eyes.
"Where does our soul seep
when our flesh rots and dies?"

"Not here," says his God

"Not here," says his Christ

"Right here!" says his Pastor, "... But for a small price."

Reviews

[Joseph D. Watkins]

profits predict the priest's promise and prophets predict this pestilence. superb sir. keep burning.

[H.]

This poem is so flippant and rhythmic. The dialogue was classic, too. It reads almost like a joke that is just too sad and demented to be funny. (But it still is, in a sad and demented way.)

This reads like a charismatic storyteller, or maybe a jester in the courtyard reciting a verse. Its tone lends itself to entertainment, but the subject matter underneath is very dark and scathing.

This is your most ambitious album to date.

[Mark A. Mihalko]

This is perfect, great use of conversation in this piece, it also flows very nicely. Awesome write!