Frito-Lay wakes me
says I'm the chosen one
god is a woman
I've left disappointed
again, go figure
Her soul's in my hands
and hers, and hers
If I don't pretend
fake it 'til I make it
Six feet, under pressure
Eternal flaming hot Cheetos
where we waste away
money, time
Force fed responsibility
Waterboard me with your
damnation of others
Dress your condemnation
in its Sunday best
Satisfy the congregation
lulled into false security
Wake me from my slumber
choking on your inclinations
We don't have the same dad
Whore me out for his
big sky party
Eternal cool rance Doritos
I'm not perfect
Ezekiel? Hosea?
Said lacking the conviction
your analysis cleaved to
Rock me back to sleep
one eye open perpetually
Slip, there's hell to pay
Don't break the stone tablets
Assume the role
mantain that one is
Original Tostitos
Someone else's salsa
###
Z. T. Fairfax is a writer from Kentucky. His fiction has appeared in Yellow Mama, FLARE, and The Bloomin' Onion. His poetry has appeared in The Gorko Gazette. His novels are represented by Amy Stern of The Sheldon Fogelman Agency.