Pornographic Stretches of Civilization

It's getting real, God.
Real stupid.
Men have built cities
And armies to protect them
And armies to expand them.

I'm here with my little
Paper heart. It's wet,
God, why didn't you
Make my meat
Of stronger stuff?

Men build houses in their cities,
Put fences around their houses,
Buy little dogs to
Amuse their children,
And they drink copious alcohol.

When they go to church
Are you happy god,
Do you like to see them
Go up and down,
Praying for their stuff?

I am confused by all the noise
My little paper heart is wet
Someone wrote something on it
In ink,

And it blossoms
Like an oil spill,
Pretty,
But to what end?