liquid courage ✓

god at a grocery store

once when i was thirteen, a boy told me about the stars. he took me by the hand and directed my fingertips to a rather odd-looking constellation;

"uh- is that a- a ghost flower?"

"no silly, it's a dolphin"

and in my head, i pull out a giant flashlight, light it into his eyes and blind him so he could never spit out such an absurd thing ever again.

i later realized he was telling the truth but by then i had grown a few inches taller and there was mold growing in between my ribs.

the last time i saw god was around february in a parking lot of a grocery store downtown. on my way back home, i kept telling my best friend about the subtle ache that lingered in my chest and he told me to stop being such a poetic freak.

so i swallowed it all the way down like i always do until words turn to vomit and somebody leaves me again.

i carved your face into nameless graves and i wondered how i never forgot the face of god even if it was once on a random february morning but i guess you look somewhat like my prayers and i started to associate you with all the comfort foods in my pantry until i threw up for an hour straight just so you wouldn't linger inside of me.

i hated religion class anyway.

you say you love god only to abandon him in the night and spill cherry-flavored confessions in cathedral booths once your sins consume you in the daylight. you're such a fucking hypocrite and god, do i love you for that (?)

if you pointed me to a dolphin in the sky, i'd probably giggle and tell you how funny you are. god, i hate you so much, i hate and i hate and i hate.

i don't know what to do with all this love and somewhere along the way i'd probably cut myself open and let you use me for your new gardening hobby.

i'd let maggots feed on my brain matter if it meant you'd look my way again on a february morning.

god, do i hate to love you (?)