New content every morning!

I AM EXPRESSING
MY ‘LIKE’ MORE

AND ASK AI
GOD
‘Why must there be so many good things?’
IN HOPES HE SHOWS ME,

IN HOPES
THAT’S NOT
MANIPULATIVE.

BECAUSE
ONCE AGAIN,
DEATH LEAVES
US
FEELING
UNPREPARED,

AND SO WE
PRAY TO
THE REAL GOD™
A ZILLION
DIFFERENT
PRAYERS,

BUT,

MY COFFEE
STILL
SMELLS LIKE
THE DOCTOR’S
OFFICE,
WHEN YOU ARE
OVERDUE
FOR A SHOT.

WHY IS IT
SO HARD
FOR ME
AND SO EASY
FOR YOU?

WHY DON’T
WE EVER
CALL?

AND I’M
NOT TALKING
TO
THE REAL GOD™,
OR THE MOTHER
OR THE
GENERAL.

IM TALKING
TO

A FRIEND.

AND IT’S HARD FOR ME, AND EASY FOR YOU, AND WE’VE GONE OVER THIS, I JUST DID, A FEW STANZAS ABOVE. REREAD IT.

I’M BEGGING
YOU.

CALL ME.

I’M BEGGING
YOU.

Michele, can you hear me from here?

How does one
move on with their day
being deprived
of the astonishing
light, [your being],
that resides
too far from me.

We try to remind
ourselves
as much
as possible.

But I do notice
the trees
grow slower
here
because of
it.

YOU DO NOT KNOW EVERYTHING.
YOU ARE NOT GOD.

A PERSON IS A THREAD, AND LIFE IS LIKE A LOOM. OR IS LIFE THE TAPESTRY? THE METAPHOR WAS CONFUSING IN THE MOMENT, OF LAYING POST NUT, WE WERE SEEING STARS, AND YOU WERE SAYING THINGS. BUT I LISTENED TO ALL THE WORDS THAT EXITED YOUR MOUTH, BECAUSE WOMEN ARE THE ULTIMATE LISTENERS. WHAT IF YOU WERE WEAVING A BLANKET? BLANKET AS THE BENEFACTOR OF GOD. YOU SAY THINGS TO ME AS IF IT IS THE FIRST TIME I HAVE EVER BEEN AFRAID. THERE ARE UNSENT LETTERS IN MY UNDERWEAR DRAWER I STRUGGLE TO PART WITH. SMELL MY DIRTY PANTIES AND STILL LOVE ME. YOU CONTINUE TO TALK—THEY ALWAYS CONTINUE TO TALK. WE’VE GONE THROUGH THIS. GOD IS THE EATER. GOD IS ALWAYS THE EATER. STEVIE SMITH HAS SAID IT. MACABRE OR WHATEVER THEY SAY?! THE VOICES ARE DISTURBING, BUT TRUE.

YOU DO NOT KNOW EVERYTHING.
YOU ARE NOT GOD.