2/26 the eternal dogma

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i look to receive what the earth and sea thought best to not even give me.

weakness cannot be tolerated. stagnancy cannot be tolerated. timidness cannot be tolerated. flaws
cannot be tolerated. with an execrable spirit and the hypervigilant hand of God, mold Adam’s rib
into a superior one of your own.

in his immemorial book of horror stories, God says no man shall see Me and live, but i see the way
they look at me—with disgust as if i do not deserve to be alive.

i stand as Adam stood, until i cannot carry the apple in my mouth for a minute more. i crumple onto
the ground having hurled my hostility of vomit onto your plate. you continue your wordless
tendencies. Adam, caught by God, fidgeted around uncomfortably, awaiting punishment. i, as well.

not a love, nor a cancer, but rather the pioneer of enemy. that is how my behavior has been
molded. there is not ample prayer tucked underneath your mattress that will bring me back home.
this is my creation myth, and it is not one that any screenwriters worth much will write of.