Godless
A dark sponge dances as you dance.
Like a believer.
I pray before I sleep
That bread-crumbs don’t fall onto my bed.
I can’t stand ants on the bed.
I hope if I do so,
a dark sponge’s lips will meet the light sponge’s lips.
And together we will be heathens.
Heathens.
Even though
One of us just swapped gods
And the other danced as the companion danced.
A dark sponge dreams of five pikes
With the heads of crows upon them.
They bleed red, like true sponges.
We both know they’re not sponges, they’re demons.
We hold our hands tighter in fear.
A dark sponge hopes the other sponge will pull him away.
He cannot look away.
But he notices that she cannot either.
I wonder if we bleed red, like true sponges.
We might be also crows.
A dark sponge wakes up next to another sponge.
Darker.
Eyes on fire.
He looks for guilt.
There is none.
Rather. He holds the side of the new sponge’s skin and thinks
How easily
A knife
would go
Through.
A female sponge wakes up next to a dark sponge
and stares at it.
She is happy to discover
He feels like death.
Rather. She holds the dark sponge’s hand and thinks
How hard
It would be
To break him
Like a twig.
A dark sponge dances as you dance.
Like a believer.
I pray before I sleep
before the lighter Sponge that graces my love I
Live for her.
Until the fragility of her neck becomes an issue.
I don’t like my gods mortal.
She calls me a crow in anger.
The embodiment of darkness.
Well, then.
The world was already in pieces before.
Contributing to that seems lo[ving]gical.
Inspired by listening to Jesca Hoop’s album, ‘Hunting my Dress’
