Divided

You will always be divided he said
simply
like ash being flicked
off one of a million
cigarettes
casually
bestowing upon me
as though it were an honour
the World’s Most Terrible Curse
and I all the while
an ant in a water puddle
trying to fathom God’s finger
relentlessly pointing
to the formula
for my salvation
trying to comprehend
with miniscule brain
that life does not
measure up or down
to expectations
that nothing is truly owned
that the very ant-blood coursing
through my veins
is but mine on short term loan
then God’s voice
booming like a B rate movie:
The choice is simple:
Love or Notlove
and I
viewing God’s finger
like some gigantic carrot
I want to eat but don't know how
hear myself respond
in helium voice
Deal! But one condition:
I WILL NOT be divided–
that much I refuse!
That is going too far, God!
a tiny ingratiating joke
for who am I
to start negotiations
when up above
immense
live thunderbolts
unfurl?

Untitled draft

In dreams last night I visited
The sewage system of my soul
And discovered with astonishment
A pathway running through it
A subterranean railroad
Full of thriving teaming life
Like some futuristic vision
And I begged of myself
Please no, let this not be my future
The trains, however, were not running on time
Which gave me some solace
The candy shop was staffed by two
Buxom ladies made up thickly
Moles and all
Oh they were jovial enough but
Did not sell the candy of my first choice
That disappointment afforded me another
Glimpse of hope
Moreover, they were completely out of
Dimes so I was unable
To purchase or consume a thing
In the process of fruitlessly negotiating
Change
I missed my train, a rickety old
Squealing tanker
Something left over from
One or other epic war
Now long forgotten
Recycled against all odds
And better judgment
I sighed with relief as the train took off
And started my long journey out of there
Through wet corridors I stumbled and ran
Trying not to notice dank
Low ceilings overgrown with some form
Of hanging algae in places thick
As bead curtains
Feeling the cold slime on the back of my right hand
Passing through into bright spotlit areas
Where workers labored night and day
To improve this place
Make it presentable
To respectable passengers
Such as myself