4 months

i haven't been hungry lately and this is because i am keeping you safe in my stomach keeping you safe, and inside the darkness of my gut you will make a home. so this way if they want to take you, they'll have to go through me first. they'll have to slice me open.

i am so full of you that i could throw up and all that'd come out would be eyes & bones & teeth & tongue – all yours and i know the acid's burning you alive but i promise you're safe here you're safe and they can't take you away and i won't have to be hungry anymore i will be full of you forever and when june comes you won't have to move to dallas and learn new ways of wanting to die you won't leave because i won't let you

i hope God is listening i hope He is watching the way i deliberately capitalize every G and H i hope He is listening and watching me pass between states of grief and quietude as my body begins to liquefy with each passing day, as i am wrought powerless to His divine will and this is the thesis of my suffering:

Anything that causes this much pain Can't be an act of God. It is an act of false belief.

"God's way is the hardest way," but where did that leave His son? hanging from the cross by his wrists. i know how jesus felt now, helpless against the Divine Plan, doomed by the God of Mercy –

every time i write about God, it turns into an oxymoron.

God, I hope you're watching because this is the thing that finally broke me. they said it would be devil who'd do it, but it was you, it was your will that i should not recover from this. my hands outstretched to you cradling the frayed wires and bits of metal that were once a heart, and as hot, holy tears stream down my face i beg you to make it better make it better make it better but you just pat my head and say i am a creator not a handyman. and you laugh and feel a pleasurable sting in the ghost of your side wound.

reminds you of those old testament days, doesn't it?