untitled zoya pal

i. the world is spinning off its axis and the numbness that consumes you prevents you from feeling how your hands quake. every stilted breath that rattles through your hollow rib cage sends a tremor that pulses in your veins

iii. god has left everything in your trembling, scraped palms and the burden of existence fills the hollow cavity of the person you used to be

iv. your frail bones were not made to bear such crushing burdens

v. you glance at the sky, waiting for an answer. you know it will not come.

vi. the chaos is deafening. within the ringing of your ears, you hear desperate prayers begging for it all to stop. the trapped scream clawing up your throat has made its home, and all you can taste is the copper of blood

vii.

viii.

ix. all at once, everything stops.

x.

xi.

xii. the world itself has combusted and all that remains is the carnage left in your shaky hands and the gaping chasm that has swallowed the universe whole

xiii. you stare at the void and the void stares back

xiv. in it, you see the face of god

xv. he offers you a bloody smile and then screams

xvi. the piercing shriek echoes in the vacuum and you feel it thrum in your veins. it feels like you’re being burned from the inside-out

xvii. you drop what was left of the world—the chaos, the prayers, the blood—into the chasm from the agony

xviii. through your tears, you see god devour the ruins of everything that ever existed in a single bite

xix. you look at him, horrified, and he stares vacantly at you with his black hole eyes. suddenly he burns; so bright and so fierce, you have to face away

xx.

xxi. when you look back, you are left alone; in the abyss and in the stillness of what never was supposed to be