Friday, April 24, 2009

Far From Saved

Enough of these primitive gods. Strict interpretations of loose skin. I don't want to wear it anymore. The pale math that would ;eaves us such remainders as this. Boasts the dog. With clean claws. The cat is caught. But the mouse still gnaws. On the corners of the walls.

Killing is a science. Measuring their resolve. God is a liar. The zipper on his panties falling open. As I travel that yellow brick road. NO brains. No hearts. To give. Just wizards. Behind their curtains.

To blame.

She said, Jesus. I can see you there. Come out. Face your people. She said, Jesus, you died for nothing. Because we are so far from saved.

Friday, April 17, 2009

She Sees God

She looks directly at God. She sees Him. He doesn't see her. She puts the needle to her tongue. Shoves her head in the oven. Takes all her clothes off. Just hoping He'll react.

She sees him there. In his endless layers of transparent skin. She sees Him. His face. His head. Eternity like a horde of ferrets gnawing at his brain. She sees him. In grandmother's pajamas. In her bed. His big teeth showing through his smug grin.

Cautiously she approaches. Her picnic basket heavy with anticipation. Her red, red hood scant to conceal her trembling.

She sees him there. In grandmother's bed. Thief. Bad novelist. Villain. Victim. His big ears deaf. His big eyes sightless.

She bends down next to the bed and leaves the basket for Him. Bits of skin and mortal dichotomy. She stares at Him. His big teeth blindly chew on it. His blind eyes glance in her direction. The scent of defeat attracts carnivores. And baleful gods. To empty corners where the girl once stumbled. Skinned knees and torn dresses are heaven's only door.

She sees Him. He only sees her when she's not looking.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Visibility

It was early morning when God abruptly woke her up. From dreams about paradise. And all the small places in which it hides. He said the garden was a lie. The apple was just a metaphor. A long needle too blunt for the drug it was meant to supply.

You'll always be monkeys in my eyes. With your sticks as weapons and your virulent arrogance. Entertainment. Nothing more. Cavemen afraid of the fire. Neanderthals mesmerized by lighting.

And now more than ever. As you are so close to understand the sources. I am nothing. A single atom in a collider full of thousands. Each of us omnipotent for a moment before we are destroyed.

You my dear are different. You see me. Know that I am present. In the raindrops that quench your lips. And in the sparks in your groin. I am there. In every way that makes you weak. and strong. I am yours. And you are mine.

We are enemies as much as we are friends. Delicate amoebas fiddle with the dials on this contraption I named life. But only you are clever enough to that notice it's not plugged in.