The modern gospel. Against the billboards. The neon signs. The street light pamphlets. The dystopian gospels are preached. With the unholy cacophony of evangelization. Reverberating from inside. Here you'll find the trampled fairies. Those amongst the pavement crack weeds. Doing lines of pixie dust at the bar. While drunken oracles hand out wisdom. For which they'll be too drunk to remember. The tattered angels with bloody, varied smiles. Smoking cheap dollar store cigarettes. Littled the blasphemers burn of their halos. While the divils they dance with the church forgot. The tram by the street corner is serberous, dusty, and forgotten. While Hades flirts with a girl. With promises of another round. Promises of a night to remember. Their wings tattered. Their halos dim. Their mediocrity. Their lust. In the process of discovering our divinity. We have sold our souls to the gods of consumption. We are being forgotten. Tomorrow will not remember today.