broodings

neon worship;

we sit in the back of the pickup truck, wings glowing and ethereal. the wing tips point at the sky, honouring our god. we whisper passages from our holy book as we sit there, sipping from bottles of nectar every so often. our haloes float high above our bleached blonde hair and every time we kiss they flicker. we trace prayers into each other's skin with our scarlet fingernails, we sit outside gas stations as the sun rises, words of worship on our snake tongues. our holy books bound in red and black sit in our ruby varsity jacket pockets, pulling heavily. we walk quietly into our places of worship, which tremble with newborn electricity, and we recite psalms through garnet lips and pearly teeth.