I.
adam and eve
penis throbbing
moses
ten-second snapchat
god’s hand
touching himself
it took michelangelo four years to paint that goddamned ceiling
just ten seconds
are all forms of art created equal?
well they were both created in god’s image. . .
who even is isaiah?
want touch want thirst want
25,000 tourists visit the sistine chapel every day
is this sacrilegious?
you can see where michelangelo introduced himself into the painting–
this is definitely sacrilegious
y’know these guys would have sent dick pics
is art less worthy if it lasts ten seconds and disappears?
ha ha he only lasted ten seconds
we love things that don’t last forever
ancient rome, easter island, printing presses, orgasms
stop it this is literally the pope’s house
a dick pic has to be at least equally artistic as the sistine chapel
“michelangelo actually creates the illusion of shadows...”
i mean you have to get the lighting just right to capture the size
art should make you feel something
oh i feel something
i’ve always been an art snob
picky about my pieces 
it takes something more than fame to make my heart stutter
tell me mona lisa ever did anything for you
your moaning, on the other hand
michelangelo’s fine. don’t get me wrong, it looks like he worked really
hard
it’s just that i really only started believing in god
when i saw how immaculate the human body could be
there’s something divine in the timelessness of both
italian renaissance and fleeting phalluses 
you were timeless, baby
you could tell me in ten seconds
what michelangelo needed four years to convey

i never understood how people enjoyed
stargazing
constellations always there, unchanging
see, i like it when things get snatched out of my
hand of adam reaching out for–
–eplay
maybe the dick pic wouldn’t be so hot if i didn’t get the
open-this-when-you’re-alone text in the freaking sistine chapel
i like the nerve–
and my nerves crave something bolder than paint strokes
–of some people. i want to be 5,000 miles from here
probably how michelangelo felt when he got locked in this hall for four years
maybe i’m finally feeling exactly what he wanted me to feel after all
intensity, determination, the pulse of endless yearning
to be perfectly frank i’d rather live for a moment than a millennium
ten seconds
i stayed in the sistine chapel for forty-nine minutes
i could have orgasmed at least three times

michelangelo might’ve been afraid of wasting time
so he made something that would last
a painting that wastes everyone else’s time
i prefer art that gets to the point
minimalist
modern art
it doesn’t get more modern than this
museum sign reads: freshly dried semen on woman’s chest
museum sign reads: deep-throating in fraternity basement
museum sign reads: this exhibit will only last ten seconds.
thank you for your patience.
museum sign reads: this ceiling was completed in 1512
museum sign reads: no photos please
museum sign reads: please keep quiet
and not in a kinky way

i got a dick pic in the sistine chapel
i got a dick pic in the sistine chapel
and i liked it
i liked it more than the sistine chapel
giggling beside the ghost of michelangelo
what a rush of
paint, the colors of the sistine chapel swirling
god created light
and then oceans and then trees and then
and then people who could appreciate art
i’m pretty sure god said let there be
umph.

II. 
nude beaches, sun-leeched
Europeans free 
to be phallic.
four hundred:
the number of penises
glazed into the armored walls
of the Sistine Chapel,
incredible like
getting a tough stain out 
is incredible
or recovering all your lost files
is incredible
but it’s incredulous how
people worship Michelangelo’s painting
more than God’s design
which is what the ceiling was about
in the first place

If “modern art” can be a pile of garbage
or the contents of a woman’s purse–

If there’s an aesthetic to the way you 
make love with your toes curled
or a performance piece on the angle
of your navel 
as it crashes into me–

then surely a “you up?” text message at 2:14 am
is just as intricate as the fourteen
lines of a Shakespearean sonnet
surely your ten-second snapchat
should be studied as thoroughly as the ten commandments
surely the wrist technique for paint strokes 
can’t be all that
much more admirable
than the strokes that make us
shudder

III.
there are more dicks on the ceiling
of the pope’s house
than are saved in my phone
under your self-titled album
(and I counted 22)

one lift, two airplanes, one hitchhike
a bus station.
that’s what it took to be in the holiest chapel
in the world
but all I can think is 
holy shit that’s a lot of penises

did I come all this way to learn
that humanity has been worshipping
the blessed cock since
1512?

I’m not sure what’s more impressive:
the four years Michelangelo spent gazing
up at a constellation
of soft penises he whipped out 
of his own imagination,
or the extensively thorough archive
I keep
of pictures of your dick

Catholics,
if the walls of the Sistine Chapel could talk,
imagine what they’d have to say, 
the things they’ve seen.
a four-hundred-year-old
chapel full of four hundred penises:
lots of room for naughtiness, 
tasteless jokes, untimely erections, 
a quickie in a too-small
Italian bathroom stall. 
it’s the triple-word-score
of sin,
which is pretty damn hot
and yes I’m talking about eternal damnation,
I’m looking at Michelangelo’s horned Satan
as we speak.

I’d like to be the record-keeper
of all things deviant.
There’s something worth commemorating 
about sending what are you wearing right now
from beneath the Sistine Chapel
What can I say?
I like to immerse myself in my work.

IV. 
the first time someone snapchatted me
a big ol’ penis
you can bet your ass I averted my eyes
‘cause Mom could be looking over my shoulder
for God’s sake

the second time someone snapchatted me
a cock
I did the same motherfucking thing
I didn’t ask for your dick
to show up on my phone
the first time
and I certainly didn’t ask for it 
the second time

the third time someone snapchatted me
their hard-ass dick
it was my boyfriend
I thought I was in love, y’know

my family was on vacation
my sneakers were squeaking
in the holiest hall 
any Good Catholic would recognize
(hint: it’s the Sistine Chapel)

psttt
c’mere
lean in
I don’t know how to reconcile
the fact that I liked it.
I don’t know why I liked
the look of his flesh
against Michelangelo’s portraits
but I loved it
I wanted to pin him up against the million-dollar walls
I wanted to be an artist
create something
hand-made

there’s a lot of stimulation
to be had
when you’re looking at something so
human;
the only thing more human
than art
is more human.
more
more
more

I don’t actually believe in God
for a number of reasons.
1. What kind of God would allow snapchat to only
last ten seconds?
2. What kind of God would make him 5,000 miles 
away from me? 3. What kind of God would turn me on 
in the middle of the Sistine Chapel
while my parents stood nearby, listening to 
audio museum tours about renaissance art?
4. What kind of God would make Michelangelo
spend four years staring at a ceiling of dicks
and then invent the camera?