Poetry

Humanity is a Dirty Kitchen Sponge 

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held under the marching tune of trumpets

dirt and ugliness leaked and spat from inside

retching a gurgling song, as the sky

devoured 

My body 

      flew to 

             the ground & for a moment

                           I soared.

I collided, hard and fast, a car crash, unanchored. & here

in the ether I saw god in

the lightning, the birdsong, the curiosity.

the tradition & culture, the dead & dying, 

the living & unborn, and the music of it all.

god could be no one, 

and they could not change anything I'd done. they told Me 

We’d all supernova 

because rot and wrinkles is

how We were designed.

they told Me, salvation and purity don't exist. without flaws, 

You are not human. what is the point of anything if You aren't mean

and crying into a friend's shoulder? that'd be hell.

You're a cell cycle, birthing, splitting, dying all while living. 

Isn't that divine enough?

and My body cried for all it lost, withering and blood-pooled, 

a fizzled galaxy.