Exodus 20:3

by Freydís Moon

Faith was prescriptive, a placebo. Something brandished like a weapon in one breath and offered like a blanket in the next.

There he was, kneeling in a church, half-fucked and flushed from nose to toe.

what are you, what did we do last night, what do you want with me, can I have you?

“You are my golden calf, Diego López. You have remade yourself, rebuilt your own empire from within, and demanded recognition from the world. Reverence from unbelievers.

“An idol is only false if veneration ends at the idol itself. Those who seek us out pray through us. We’re conduits for worship, not usurpers.”