theory of everything

god says he

has a plan for all of us.

i call bullshit on that motherfucker.

bullshit

because if fate

was the one who fucked up my head

and made melancholy my whore

that motherfucker should already be dead.

bullshit

because

who would spark a wildfire in their own backyard?

the answer lies in the burning of the good book:

no one owns the world.

there is no god.

there is no poetry.

this is not a sentence

and i would take the time to explain why,

but we're all dying.

nothing is what you think.

i would say

we are all made of stardust

but i don't want to make myself vomit.

if we are any part of the cosmos,

we are the detritus leftovers

that fall off of comets-

we are worthless.

i do believe

there's something bigger than all of us

but-

i'm well aware it might just be

the weight of the air we breathe.

i believe

that energy is conserved

that we are all made of matter

that gravity will be the death of me-

but there is no theory of everything.

i have been bleeding

for five years.

i walk around with

red hands

yet no one asks about my fingers.

i have carefully carried my guts

in mason jars,

only to spill them

on paper.

no one has helped me clean up

the mess i've made of myself.

so i will spell god with a lowercase g

and no one can stop me

because there is no saving grace.

i vow to shit on the bible.