Millennium Prayer

You know I can fuckin’ see you, man. You think I don’t know something’s up? You think you can just sit there eyeballin’ me like I don’t know what you’re thinking? I could turn around any second now and catch you if I wanted, man, and you know you’d look away like a fuckin’ pussy. You always do.

But this day? This day you can stare all you fuckin’ like. You can give me the crook-eye so hard you bust blood vessels and weep like a holy fuckin’ statue, see if I give a fuck. I’m on fuckin’ fire tonight, motherfucker, just you fuckin’ watch me. Tonight I walk into the sun. Tonight I chew holes in the fuckin’ horizon and spit acid in the raw wounds of time and space. Tonight you’re gonna see some fuckin’ fireworks, you fuck.

So go on. Fuckin’ stare. Get yourself an eyeful, you miserable heel, you fucking cocksucker. Absorb it, take it all in. We’ve had our beef, you and me, but this right here ain’t about us any more. Not this day.

You see that storm cloud over yonder? You fuckin’ see that too? You wanna know how this is going to go down? Getting a little nervous, huh?

Well, shit. You ain’t seen nothing. I’ll be leaving in a minute, and you won’t want to see what’s gonna happen next, but you won’t have a fuckin’ choice. You’re going to follow me, right out that door and headlong into that storm. You’ve never seen a sky so black, like the entire fucking earth was being sucked right out into… into where? Go ahead, say it. Not space. Somewhere else, you know where the fuck I mean.

And when we’re out there, in that terrible, terrible mess, you’ll see the furious fuckin’ rain strip the flesh from my body, the lightning gouge my eyes from their sockets. And you’ll see the wind lift my dry bones like dust into the air, and you’ll feel it on your own skin and you won’t know anymore if what you’re seeing is happening to you or to me.

And for a moment you’ll lose it. You’ll feel like every atom of your being is bursting with a white heat, billions upon billions of angry solar flares, ground zero packed into each one of your screaming cells. Oh, it’ll be agony, motherfucker, pure sterile agony. Think razors, think napalm. Think a thousand Hiroshimas in your blackening gums alone, and then realise you have no concept.

And then, after you’ve lost yourself, you’ll lose me. When your eyes turn back into your skull, when you break off that stare, in that moment I’ll be gone. And in the calm that follows, as you collapse on your knees into the dirt, spent and broken, all the pain of all life tattooed with a hammer into your spine, you’ll open your hands and offer them to the quiet sky.

In your cupped palms, a shiny black stone. 14 billion years of dark matter, ripped cleanly from the ether and packed into that cold, smooth sphere. All the power of God, the Devil, Hell, Heaven. The very essence of me.

I am the past, future and present. I am the bleeding mouth and ass of history and the twitching corpse of tomorrow.

I am above disgust. I am beneath contempt. I am hate, and my voice is the voice of your God.