Coraddi Magazine

A S̶o̶b̶e̶r̶ Drunk Ode to Whatever
Bek Brannock

Here’s how I’ve learned to open myself:

For God with God
soft prayer stale Communion
one cracker for His body
one bottle of $7.99 Flip Flop wine for mine

Take bended knee or rather
hits before prayer
beg burning bush for Saul scales to fall from
disenchanted eyes searching for
any type of better future

What’s the penance for piss filled jars of sin?

Lately that’s the only gift from my friends
There’s gotta be backlash or
backsplash when someone takes your trust
only to return it sopping wet with excrement

I gave up profanity for Lent
so don’t keep f̶u̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ me up like this

Between His silence and my loneliness
despite my WWJD forgiveness
all I have left is to drink Mary’s fame
until barbed halo shards fall down
disguising scars with hallowed feathers
breaking teeth to fourth dimensional fangs

What’s a monster outside of fiction
What’s a mortal turned angelic
What’s this thing I am now

It’s this beast y’all made me
mentality reorganizing body until
suddenly I’ve dissociated from reality
I don’t belong here anymore I mean
it’s been made obvious I don’t fit in

God help me as I chew my way back
to the Holy Place
devoid of this transcendent shame

I pray there You’ll speak my true name

Bek hates the bourgeoisie and tomatoes. Take their poems with a grain of salt (then shot and lime). Support artists – Insta/Venmo/Cashapp: slugbelly