The Captain Has Drowned

Idols are made in dingy bedrooms,

As kids scour youtube for things to believe in

They find prophets preaching through audio files,

Telling them to scream.

This Saviour's poetry is inter-cut with kick drums,

And it’s beat makes those dirty walls resound,

Making the listener pause,

Causing something to stir.

It worms its way into their bloodstream,

Hitting them like a drug;

A proposed purpose,

An anthem to sing back with a previously unknown fervor.

And in it they found their Captain.

But their Captain has Drowned.

He choked on their admiration,

He was smothered in their praise,

Their hands had unknowingly pried the wheel away from him,

And veered his ship off course.

They all watched his every step through LCD screens,

Caught and coddled his cast-off words as scripture,

Made a mythos out of meager moments,

And propped a man up as a Messiah.

The Captain has Drowned,

And the crew held his head down as he struggled to breathe,

Converted lyrics to church hymns,

Doing it all with a masturbatory zest.

The Captain has Drowned,   

His last words unheard through all the praise.