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Who gives into my reflection, who displays their fingers like a woman's legs spread on satin sheets, who sees themselves as a skeleton beneath useless flesh, who sees me standing from afar and gazing hard at their judgments deceiving me-
-fetishes curling into massive fists, fingernails digging into their palms and they're
browning and sometimes people claim it's gold- people aren't bigots, they live and provide and give and are intellectuals and deserve all the best and our hearts beat holy blood, the blood that flows through our veins, like the holy water we were baptized in,
but I think that s**t was tap water, and our veins are pipes rather than rivers, trees are made up of some s**t God put together like a witch prepares her broth to boil children in;
to put humans in, God's icons- little dolls with no real place and no real opinion because we are all made up of Him and He is the only real being and we shouldn't worry because we can look forward to what He has in store for us
but I wonder, who is He and why does He control us when we can't see Him and why do we have to capitalize the first letter of everything that directly relates with Him when technically 'him' should not be capitalized as it's grammatically incorrect to do so? Why would God create homosexuals, disabled people, Jews and Atheists if He hates them so much? Why do religious persons speak for Him when He has never spoken a word to them?
if I were God I'd leave this planet to its loss, leave it to spiral out of control,
then humans will be permitted to question the point of death and they can live happily as they sin and life would be so much simpler from the first breath we take to the last; every blink of an eye, windows to our souls- eternal or not, afraid or not, all human- we're all existing, we all have existed and we are holy,
without God,
we are holy, each and every one of us is one thing, one creature walking- though each part of that human takes its own path, I am a part of the sexless reproductive organ that this creature walks with,
a c**k or c**t, no one knows-
I look above and see eyes and hands and I look below and see thighs and knees and feet and I wonder when,
when did this creature begin walking,
am I a clitoris or a testicle, a vulva or a scrotum,
does it matter when I live and breathe and be of use to something- no matter what it is, just something-
it won't sit and begin to smell and grow an invisible wall that I cannot break,
I will be free.