God Has No Name

The bicycle ticks

The car rattles

The piss of the dog trickles down the wall.

The eaters eat, the walkers walk,

and the girl takes a picture of her food or of herself,

or no one really knows anymore.

The birds on the wall drift in and out

as the trees pass and cover them

the sunlight cutting through them hypnotically.

Darker then lighter.

But time moves as it always does out there

no matter it’s hushed screeching as it halts in your mind.

Like a moving picture or rather simply moving a picture

from one space to the next.

Everything changes, but does it?

It’s all the same. Simply different. A change of ambience.

Lighter then darker.

Closer than further.

If I were to venture out again and again

I’d see all these faces in all these places in all of these cases

of life simply fluttering by.

Like a shuttering film

or a flip comic.

None more exciting than the next or the last

rather the mundanity can only be masked

by the excitement of my own picture.

The velocity of my life shifting — ebbing and flowing.

In and out of frame.

The stars and planets: they look like they’re suspended

but they’re really shooting through nothing.

We all are like that.

The world seems bright and cooler when my life is vibrant

with joy and progress.

But now sitting on the frontier of indolence and indulgence

my life is but a spiders web built overnight in the closure of a door

left open by mistake.

A home for life built in the clutch of certain death.

They say it gets better.

But they are miserable also

so how do they know?

They also claim to know gods name

and we don’t believe that now do we?

Because God requires no name.

The bicycle ticks

The car rattles

The dog turns and smells his own urine.

Only the names of the faces change.