Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
The Sad God
He sat in the dirt. He, a useless nobody, wrote trying to put words to misery. He felt like the whole world was eating at his soul and drumming at his ears. His pen flew. Oh, how his pen flew. It flew across the page until it flew from the page, from his hands.
And he screamed a scream of fear and hatred.
He howled. He longed.
And he exploded into motion. He scratched and ripped at all the tiny usless worthless pieces of his life and the accumulation of his anger turned into a gaping dripping instantly festered wound that echoed the vastness of his emptiness.
He couldn't be confined in his box of a room anymore. So he tore down his room and tore down his house and his family and the world and he dissolved into pieces of the universe.
But he was sad, and he still sat in the dirt. So he built a world unlike Earth, to his own taste, with his own hands, where there was no war, no pain, no control, only love and lust and a playground of slaves to worship him and lift him from the dirt.
He wrote in his godly ledger the new bible of this new world created out of the dust he had lived in. But he grew hopeless again and in one word, all of his slaves exploded again into dust and each particle became an individual star.
He was lord of all the stars
But all the stars complained of his rule, and he was tired. So he carved and curved himself and all his dust thoughts into a new earth, with new life: solid and thought out and well. and he slept. And then he was the dirt for the next sad souls to lie in.
And he screamed a scream of fear and hatred.
He howled. He longed.
And he exploded into motion. He scratched and ripped at all the tiny usless worthless pieces of his life and the accumulation of his anger turned into a gaping dripping instantly festered wound that echoed the vastness of his emptiness.
He couldn't be confined in his box of a room anymore. So he tore down his room and tore down his house and his family and the world and he dissolved into pieces of the universe.
But he was sad, and he still sat in the dirt. So he built a world unlike Earth, to his own taste, with his own hands, where there was no war, no pain, no control, only love and lust and a playground of slaves to worship him and lift him from the dirt.
He wrote in his godly ledger the new bible of this new world created out of the dust he had lived in. But he grew hopeless again and in one word, all of his slaves exploded again into dust and each particle became an individual star.
He was lord of all the stars
But all the stars complained of his rule, and he was tired. So he carved and curved himself and all his dust thoughts into a new earth, with new life: solid and thought out and well. and he slept. And then he was the dirt for the next sad souls to lie in.
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