27-30 Here For You

I'm a house of cards that can walk
I'm a centaur dressed for polo
I’m a clone playing patty cake with my real self
I’m a color-blind Green Lantern
I’m a season of Stranger Things set in the future
I’m a night-vision microscope
I’m a clowder of successfully-herded cats
I’m a scuba-diving comedian trying out new material on coral
I’m a statue of a painting of a self-portrait
I’m Texas on the inside, Spuzzum on the outside
I’m a halo with a twist, making the sign for infinity and a glowing pair of handcuffs
I’m an ‘oops’ in the Enterprise engine room
I’m a phantom-limb tap dancer
I’m a circus-of-one ringmaster
I’m a lonely dog biscuit
I’m Westworld set in Groundhog Day
I’m a fluorescent brown light saber
I’m a cellophane flag
I’m Chihuahua nipples that excrete espresso
I’m a gladiator that wins by boredom
I’m a basement party

And I’m here for you


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28-30 - Grey

St Peter guards the gates to heaven.
Cerberus guards the gates to hell
I am talking to both of them
Because they don’t know what to do with me
It happens every now and then

Some people live so grey that it’s hard to decide where they should go

Their morality-measurement meters are pointed at me and they are stuck at fifty percent

A grey that cannot be defined as leaning into one way or the other
A perfect grey that is not one atom more good or bad
An equator around the totality of the moral sphere
A pinpoint in the center of the gradient

They recommend me to their superiors

I go up the holy chain of seraphim, cherubim, thrones, dominions, virtues, powers, principalities, archangels and angels.
All groups. All diplomatic. All departments. Heaven is bureaucratic. No blame.

I go down the stinking ladder of Mammon, Astaroth, Abaddon, Merihem, Asmodeus, Belial, Pythius, and Beelzebub.
All single entities. All bosses. All pyramid power. Hell is personal. All blame.

Until I’m shunted up and down to God and the Devil themselves.

We stand in a room that needed to be cleaned for the occasion since they hadn’t been in the same place since the beginning. Looks like it used to be a garden.

It’s awkward. They talk to me but not to each other. It’s tense.

I’m so gray.

They both ask me what I’m doing here, wasting their time.

I let the grayness flow out from me and down all the parts of me.
I let the grayness billow into my usual comfortable clothes
I let my true face bubble up from beneath the mask
And I produce my scythe

“It’s over” I say



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