Disheveled he Gathered himself, seeping out of the pores of existence itself. Like static energy dripping from every thing you could see. The bed room wall subtly became a spinning circle and the dressers and art got swept up in it too.
Just spinning color and light at first, a flash of tentacles and a gleam of mucus.
Genitals and tongues bloomed from flowers in the center of his head as he changed shape vigorously and swiftly. Sometimes almost to fast to remember the image from before.
Until finally, the spiral stopped moving and there stood a hologram of all those people they told us of, expect he was one person.
He had half the face of jesus christ, and half the face of horus, he had goat hooves, and he clipped them together as he danced, rocking back and forth in his sphere. He Played the Guitar and a harmonica, and he yodeled the most beautiful song, about the one which he created, who went into panic and ran from him, oh he knew the story, as he watched it play over and over again only wanting to save her, but she was so feral and fearful running through the woods, trying to chase her would only scare her more.
So he sang by the edge of the forest, a song of his lost love, and as she ran through the trees the earth turned and did the season, and her body aged, and withered, and she was born again wailing in fear from the start....

But he sang, and he sang and he sang, hoping to stir her, to distract her from the forgetful panic she was trapped in,

until one day he started seeping through the walls
and she stopped in awe with all fear dissolved, suddenly enctranced by the strangeness of god.