there's something spiritual in all this suffering,
something religious to the blood.
do you find god in the obscene?
can you hear his voice from the entrails?
can you feel the grace spewing from our severed flesh?
do you feel his forgiveness from an open chest cavity?
created in his image.
on earth as it is in heaven.
A vengeful, jealous, then indifferent god.
on earth as it is in heaven.
I see it in every opened body,
the world, my reflection, his,
can you see the divinity in it all?
I see God in all the places that are empty,
in all the silence and in all the dead air,
God is everywhere meaning is nowhere to be found.
How long until you escape the mirror?
How long until we escape the holy image of heaven,
and all the dead carcasses it hides in.
Shallow graves,
the quiet ground says nothing. Means nothing.
There's religion in the empty, in the senseless, in the nothing.
God is in the meaninglessness.
A spirituality of nothingness,
there's certainly something Holy -
Holy in the silence of the aftermath of the slaughter.
That Holy Hill of Crosses that gives rise.
God's Left Hand gives strength to the wicked alone.
The dead and the hunter,
a religious tradition.
eat what you kill
savor the end
be grateful for your discussions with God,
remind yourself of the cold, calculated, nothingness
next time you find bodies in a ditch.
Next time a stranger is bound and ended.
Remind yourself of the Holiness of it all.
violence be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
There's blood everywhere,
and there's something in the smudges and puddles.
Something
Just as meaningful as the dirt.
the world, the dead, God, Jesus, the Ghost...
their heaven is empty too. their heaven is covered in blood too.
And it means absolutely nothing.
I see through the eyes of suffering and violence,
the truth of this divine condition. that of human life on Earth.
in the nothingness that surrounds us,
in the silence of the ground.
Heaven and Hell are one in the same.
God and the Light Bearer,
are both alive in a stab wound.
And all the blood - our confession
That we understand God is nothing.
The Bible of the World is
Murder and Silence.
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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
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