do not disturb

God is dead and even so I will live to see the morning. There is a comfort in the worst to come having finally fallen though I made it up to scare then soothe myself. Imaginary things can’t die, even when we need them to. Some of the worst ideas are claimed immortal. I laid god to rest in the socket where I used to have a tooth. I can worry him there with the tip of my tongue, like praying.

I can’t sleep. My mind sieves to snag every distraction from the task of laying blank and honest in the dark. Stiff as a board, light as a feather. Lay still and hope to like it. The walls are humming, moth wings, rat toes. Nails. Every time I shift slightly the bedside lamp rattles, the mattress sags and creaks. Bones and springs and I wonder what it would be like to sink, the mattress a ship I ride on my knees through the floor. The lamp is bright, too bright; my head hurts, neck itches, aches; all the made up memories of god giving ghost to curl up in a hole in my gum ride deep between my shoulder blades. Wings.

Decent people don’t want god dead in their jaws. I am hungry, shameless. No. I have godless teeth and inadequate social skills. I was born without breasts and breathe steadily when I run uphill. I have never dreamt of drowning in mud.

Have you? Have you? Those people don’t speak. Those people spit teeth. Suck cock. Eat soup. Good gumming. Those people. Breed. Breathe. Gutless throat suck consumers. Expire.

Past due. It was too late to stop. You had begun already in gut and secret. I loved you, the swell beneath my palm. They said those people shouldn’t breed. They said I must rinse you out in blood. I couldn’t. God. I couldn’t. Think light. The lamp.

It is time now for a new god. Circuit, switch. First mud, then bullets. Barrels. Boots. Blood. Bang.

Abruption. And the sac will split with a snap brittle like shell, teeth, pink irradiating insides folding open to reveal broad wings of solar light that will flap and beat the air to scorch cheeks and lips, eyelids, lash and we will boil and burn and pillar and blow and never have to congregate again.

This entry was posted by TT Jax.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: