The Gospel Came, Then She Came
In the cracked pews of the hungry, faith dripped down between her knees,
While the preacher’s mouth was full of gold
and shame was traded on the breeze.She knelt for
comfort in a shelter run by haunted, sweating men,
Each blessing hard as hunger,
each “amen” a whispered “when?”She begged for bread and took his hand,
let sin be bartered for a meal,
Her body preaching sermons flesh was never meant to kneel.The old
stained glass watched everything, eyes hollowed out by time and rot,
She sucked the gospel from his teeth,
a prayer for all she’d never got.No gods arrived—just meat and need,
just sweat and sigh and shattered trust,
They fucked in fire, called it mercy,
wrote their scriptures in the dust.No angels came to watch her crawl,
no saints to break her empty fast,
Just starving bones in holy beds,
while every hope became the last.He grunted out forgiveness,
splintered absolution in her throat,
She wept and swallowed, took her worth in every brutal, shuddered note.No miracles,
no water turned to wine, just filth disguised as faith,
She came when no one called her name,
salvation written on her face.In shadows flickering on altar walls,
where love decays in skin and bone,
She found a moment burning bright and left the world to die alone.No gods, no shame,
no promised light, no witnesses, no grace—Just hunger’s gospel closing in,
then heat, and moans, and final trace.
Callback Glitches:“No safe word…”“Lick the ash…”“Forget my name…”
Final lines, not a sigh but an exhale that’s the world’s last letting go:She came,
the altar cracked, the world forgot its shame—And
faith itself dissolved inside the hunger she became.