Teething abdomen,
We've eaten ourselves into abundance!
And we're so very desolate,
Lonely,
Beside our digestive pile of excremental idioms.
I am God,
He said,
Then choked to death on a raisin.
God is subject to nothing!
Except raisins,
It would seem,
Then he woke,
God was having a dream.
I killed God,
It said,
As it sat snugly in the throat of God!
No figment of imagination,
Could make believe me,
It said,
Then poofed,
And became nonexistent.
No more late nights he said,
Then went to back to bed three days later,
And dreamed himself a woman to make love to,
And woke alone.