i met god and he stripped me naked

vile fragrance of dying lilacs

infesting slowly-

wafting through cold white air

stings my throat. coughs

come out, sliced at thin angles

jarring vocal cords.

i breathe.

it brushes past my warm cheek,

His hand: i shudder.

something tingles down my spine the poets

call it love but we

say it like it is: dread.

His mouth smells of rotting grapes-

of old spirits that mother says not to touch

ever. He opens his eyes- bloodshot bloodshot

spits out greed no-

lust. red lust that clings to you

like cellophane.

He scratches His grizzly beard.

dizzy hands touch me: His hands-

wrinkled, old, with fear trapped

in the creases of His skin but he calls it

trust. 

they move down: slowly, swiftly.

i dig my nails inside my palms

bite my tongue and blood spurts out

like the fountains at the mall-

sicksweet sicksweet blood i let it

stay let it flow around

my mouth let it stain my teeth let it

stain my soul. 

He watches me

naked in my utter shame-

He smiles He steps closer

closer to me.

His lips neatly sliced into a macabre grin-

He spits in my face.

thick thick saliva-

tastes like rusty metal i

wipe it and He 

laughs.

He digs His claws

in the back of my rib it

hurts and black black blood drips 

on the stark white floor-

is this what we call art?

and if we do-

no deep breath deep breaths 

i feel the life evaporating out of my lungs

i feel my veins surrendering my

eyes blurring and-

is this what they call beauty?

i pass out.

i move around-

float around the darkness.

i let it engulf me 

i let it tear me apart.

and i think i’m alone but-

i open my eyes.

i feel the floor beneath my head

am i dead? no this isn’t eden.

or is it?

i feel Him moving

inside me i feel Him

grunt.

somewhere, i hear pens scribbling.

somewhere, an infant dies.

somewhere, i hear music.

mozart presses against my burning flesh

and flows in my veins.

i sense a crescendo

(and the life slowly seeping out)

and with every note it

becomes harder to breathe harder

to hold on.

it grows it grows it grows and 

i smile i see mozart i see him close his eyes

and here-

here i witness me dying here

a requiem.