Two-hundred and Thirty-six: atheist prayer

running in the sky, i eat stars and laugh,
throwing up constellations on the pavement.
growing metaphorical fangs was more
painful for me than the ones i bit but
that’s alright with me. tonight my eyes
are alight with future. i am old, weighed
down by everyone else’s history but in here,
the morning is virginal and i want to take
advantage. i want to ravage my pillow,
the only constant partner but I shan’t.
i like to smell the cigarettes on my fingers-
haha! i can smoke as much as i fucking want
because i am a grown-up and i am single
and this makes me double my nicotine intake
just for the hell of it. it doesn’t work the same
way with maturity. pop! pop! i burst bubbles
to distract me from the sound my heart makes
in the middle of the night when the world
is asleep and i cannot forget what my life
looks like in the blinding light. i wish i


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

4 thoughts on “Two-hundred and Thirty-six: atheist prayer”

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