Whilst Wonder of the Waking World...
It was the Fifteenth of February.
Light lingered down desperate, dingy, hellish halls.
In a moment of meticulously maddening clairvoyance.
I solemnly looked at God.
He was a color that I have not seen.
Not blue, or black, or brown, or green.
Not white, or red, or pink, or purple.
With one illuminating angelic eye.
And giant legs.
With glistening thighs.
And six circular single hands.
With aggressive arms.
And grimy glands.
The curious creature looked down at his creation.
In a fiery fit.
Of devout devotion.
For in that moment.
I felt a fickle feeling.
Of pray.
And kneeling.
All the biggest books seemed to reek of bullocks.
And I knew that my awkward awakening had begun.
Exit from the Waking World.
And into the Sun.
page revision: 3, last edited: 07 Sep 2026 08:16