New Stream of Consciousness: Unholy Sublimation

I write without animosity, no recreationality whatsoever, this is a forsaken note from the start. I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but seriously, I’ve got a point right? You’ve had your moments, bathed in milky satin love. Yet I know not your secret passions. I cannot speak with sincerity because my conscience is already beside me. I speak in the name of heavenly indoctrination. Let’s make babies in the name of Zeus and his fiery thunderbolts. If you even attempt to question my electricity, I will run like the dickens until you are forced to bake yourself silly like apricot muffins. You know that one day we will embark upon pirated journeys of wheat so sweet, not so unlike the cornbread you used to bring to my doorstep in the wee hours while none other than the black cats and jokers roamed the streets looking for trouble. I have no inquiries save those of unholy sublimation, you, me, and a set of coat hangers, ready to take on every worldly manifestation sacrilegious to the name of Christ, made more passionate due to its inherent sacrilege. I do not speak from experience, only of hope… that maybe if true you might sell your soul for a second of untrustworthy passion with that which haunts your every dream. I come with shackles bound to my soul, locked for the sake of keeping back thoughts of dire loss and pity, you bring hope to that which appeared hopeless, I doubt the draught in your mind, the river of your thoughts, bleeding, doomed to be caught clotted in the tourniquet that is fate. Goodbye for now. If fate dies and all is lost, in vain I will come back, you shall prevail, your faith shall be rewarded with the luck of the draw. That which binds us separates us. Only in the loss of God are we saved. Kill your idols and you shall be free. I am God. You are dead. Goodbye.

More of my writings can be found at my lit profile:

Stream of Consciousness

Peace and Love,
The Rebellion Magazine