When he spoke

his eyes were on me

While he is the tortured soul in Hell

that has been gone for so many years

his eyes were black

Not the beating summer midnights

but the darkness with nothing behind it

The chill trembling up my spine told me

that I was the one he wanted to tear apart bit by bit

that we were the ones that would bear the punishment for existing

outside of his body

if we were just a little closer to his gun

He told us that he was God

that the blood stains were justified by the divine light of Heaven

that he was a martyr for the men who were denied entrance

as if her body was an empty building to be filled only

by their hunger to possess what is not theirs

as if his loneliness was her responsibility

as if taking was the Holy Grail that would grant him eternal life

if he touched his lips to the crimson blood that filled it

mistaking it for wine

As if love wasn’t enough

When he laughed...

When he laughed

All I could think of was an empty building

How his whole being consisted of shadows and hate

Ironic that he spoke of loneliness

when he had created an absence in somebody else’s life

an empty space where their daughters and sons their sisters and brothers

their grandchildren, their nieces and nephews

would never again occupy except as ghosts

When his face was frozen on the screen

And we all hung in heavy silence

I realized that he was nothing

that he was no God

which is why I never

even wrote his name