Genesis

You’re the Genesis of this entire shitty world—you’re the beginning and the end. Bloody, drooling, hungry, needy. You’re the apple on the Tree of Knowledge, you’re the serpent whispering in my ear. I want to take a bite, I want to listen, but it’s bad for me. Your naked form lies before me and goddammit is it tantalizing, a round, plump apple resting upon a forbidden tree. I reach forward, wanting to feel your warmth so badly, but when my hand rests on your chest, it’s cold. Why are you cold?

You crumble into dust. I know that it was too good to be true as I watch the wind whip and catch your remains in its cold grasp. I want to cry, but I don’t. I don’t feel like it was worth it. I don’t feel you were worth it. I remember the way you whispered those sins in my ear and your confessions in-between my legs. You thought I was your absolution. You would strike me with your hands, your feet, your teeth, whatever it took to pull those sins from your body and pour them into my awaiting heart. Whatever it took.

I still remember the way your teeth looked in your head when you smiled. I can still feel the grind of them against the crook of my neck, the shell of my ear, the meeting point of my vagina and thigh. I can’t escape you. I want to ask why, but I already know. You already know. I can hear your laughter behind my head, but when I turn around no one is there. Are you hiding from me? Or am I hiding from you?

The first time you hit me, I cried. I could feel God turning his head just as your hand made contact with my cheek. You didn’t cry, or apologize, or frown. Just smiled. Why did you smile? The second time you hit me, I didn’t flinch, it was something I had expected. I expected the rage, the anger, the slap, the pain. All of it. I deserved all of it. You know I deserved all of it.