I’ve been sitting here at the library for two hours staring at a blank document and–nothing. My intention was to write a follow-up to the past two entries. There are many possibilities but maybe I wanted to talk about God for a little while.
I often doubt that there is a god. God is that doubt. God is the contradiction. God is the love marbled into my self-hatred.
If I’m tail-chasing, God is not the tail; rather, God is the never-catching Verb.
I prick my thumb with a pen nub. God laughs.
My hands and I are trickling along a spiral. I’m slinking toward God, God that stings like fresh lavender.
Flush with pink, I slide a finger over the threshold. God wipes it away. Again, I present to God a fleshy finger, a second offering. God denies it.
God denies me everything: honesty, faith, hope, love. God thrusts the curtain shut, and in a flash there is nothing but darkness, blood, vermin.
In the darkness, I do not have a tail to chase. I only have the tiny, soft hairs on God’s skin, oh rapture–
On the verge, God’s agony smashes mine, and a third offering brings God to a roar.