ABLE

 
I would sit and snap my fingernails, smiling to myself.
Like this moment really meant nothing.
Like I meant nothing, really.
 
I hurt my finger while opening a bottle of wine. I bled and stared at it,
and then wrapped the wound in toilet paper.
I lost blood and watched a wound on my body
heal up.
 
And now I am looking for a volunteer god.
One of those whose existence will not depend on my faith.
A god who will feed on me.
A god who will grow on my life,
so when I am old and tired,
that god will be strong and able.
A god who will give me a swift trip
from this life to another.
A god who will worship the mere blood of me.