Hell is easy: a blanket will do it Under which, on hot nights infinite Lay down a body like mine And cover the feet closely, against its lifetime habit – and that is all, my dear. An intolerable discomfort Dilated to the size of the universe. So yes A God that is the master of tortures is conceivable A God in our own image, habit’s double agent Who knows that bones crush, that skin is nothing Against flame, ice, steel, the sharp edge. But a God beyond our temptations is A God we can’t imagine. Only, we can abstract an inch Beyond the grind and crush of those winged and walking generations – Something skinless, needless, blessed. But what would this God be up to? What’s in it for him With no root in any image or song? This is truly a God for atheists. Surely our sacrifices have not all been in vain?
“I’m so bored. I hate my life.” - Britney Spears
Das Langweilige ist interessant geworden, weil das Interessante angefangen hat langweilig zu werden. – Thomas Mann
"Never for money/always for love" - The Talking Heads