God is a Ceiling!

 Hanging out with the guys.  The past is a Limited Edition Collectors Set of brittle glasses, filled with air.  Remember that, if you would.

Friendly conversations with the 'so called shadows in the alleys'.  Sheaves of breath, edged along the wind-left wall, coughing into the beautiful black air phosphorescent.

god who can blast or console, but who too often leaves us alone.

That's the problem with mental stress and not-enough-sleep combined. They team up on you and say "HERE, HAVE A COLD!!"

god is a vampire machine.

 

And so I sit.  Stay put.  Too weak to repulse our Common Enemies. The beautiful black air.  Her name writ in smoke.  Time, a frenzy of good and evil all the same under coiled god sun overhead swooping destruction.

We're all lost in space.  I could complain, but I won't. 

Life on paper means nothing.