He said hell was in my head. And so was heaven. That he is close to the flesh, but far from the skin. Nothing to grab. Something to touch. Too far away to see his eyes. Too near to notice the frown on his face.
As we stumble. From our clothes. Hungry for milky tits.
I drew a picture. When God was looking at me. I drew a picture in old crayons. But he took all those colors away.