He descends from Heaven
Ready to swallow me while I loiter at his lips.
The Spirit of Creation engulfs my room.
Exploiting my weakness, He says, “You’re disgusting.”
Insulted by my nightmares of Him.
“I need you to take your life.”
“No,” I answer.
I grab a device to record His voice for proof,
My hands shaking.
No sound plays.
I awaken before dawn to collect scraps at day
And lose them at night.
I won’t twist this tale into one of kindness,
Like those addled by ancient scriptures,
My eyes fixed on the obvious.
Not today, but on another
He’ll crunch me down into the infinite morsels in his teeth,
Feasting on the universe He built to destroy
Until light’s final flicker.
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