God

There isn’t any Sun

But it is warm

Warm, like organs are

Wet in my torso

Or boiling in my skull

These four crimson walls are hot

They can only be mine

For they’ve been here as long as I’ve thought of them

And this place heaves shakily with me

I’ve cast the curse of breath

Which was not born

And which will not die

The universe looms outside

Unable to touch this place

I look out into nothing

Nothing looks back at me

I breathe

Nothing breathes back

Nothing is bigger than I

Nothing seeps my vision away

I stand anyway

I look anyway

Some light must exist outside of nothing

As I can see pale dirt below my bare feet,

With little probing, I find soil,

The place where warmth and wetness kiss to birth life

But there is no heat here

There is no water

And there is no need

This room is earth and clay

No life to be held in this purgatorial womb

And so I am all that exists

Until I close my eyes

And convince myself otherwise