Poem

A word resonates in my head. I can't pronounce it, but I know it's his name.

The ichorous discharge is almost transparent as it's sucked into the syringe. I look at him, God's envoy or God themselves, and I push the needle in.

I feel him. A hologram of him stands in the anteroom, another hologram of him lies on my bed. In the corner of the room his void vessel decomposes and feeds the maggots creeping through the cracks in the walls. The maggots, full, morph into moths, the moths join in on my prayer dance. Disjointed poetry, deiparous fragments of God.

Proverbial cymbals chime, my knees drop to the bare carrelage. Something meaty squishes under my bad knee. An eye, I believe. Right.

I feel myself slip out and watch from somewhere behind. I don't realize it but I am humming something indecipherable. My hands crawl into my field of vision and tremble, suspended in the air. My head bobs back and forth, my mouth opens and mousse gathers at its corners. Mousse the color of the galaxy, mousse the color of my religion. My breath, polluted by his presence in me, draws bending unequal parabolas at invariant frequencies.

Something in me snaps. I die a little. Self inflicted hymnicide.

I watch my replica morph into him. The roof is no more, alkaline rain washes both of our features off, down to one eye; one mouth. An afterlife simulation. He opens his mouth, he smells of my blood, of my entrails. He has claws, he licks my eye and cuts my face in half. He screams : 'Ephthatha'. He has a horn. We fall to the ground, him atop. He feels like a water stream pushing against my ribcage.

Something meaty squishes under my back. An eye, I believe. Left.

He makes love to me in erratic desire, he cuts me open some more. We poison each other.

Annihilation.

The vision ends. I slip back into myself. And once again, a word resonates inside of my body. I can't pronounce it. But I know it's his name. I mop the eyes and the moths off the floor. In the corner of the room, the maggots go to sleep under his orbital rim. Left.

I go to sleep, the superposition of his hologram on my vessel keeps me warm.

I don't dream.