god does not love me i think he doesn’t even know my name, yet i still wonder what he’d call me by once i arrive at the gates of afterlife, would he disregard what he wrote in the book of life, look me in the eye and call me by the name my parents christened me with instead of human number 99560000c, earth #05?
but who am i fooling; i am but a donut flying across infinity in lightspeeds one moment there, a moment later swallowed by the hungry monster who awaits in the black hole
am i a snack for idle gods? a cut of chicken running from the jaws of earth, unaware that it is merely flopping from one bowl to another, flour to egg to crumbs— a breading offering for the deities
most people have come to accept that, i think as i jump yet again into the bowl of flour but i am not most people, as i refuse to believe the reality that i am but a speck of dust fleeting through life, an insignificant bug easily quashed by the stinking foot of infinity, that old hag.
life is temporary too much breading does not do any good i will soon be the trillionth dumped into that pool of hot oil
but **** if i’m not going to try scorching the tongue of a god, and while i’m at it, be the most delicious flying donut in the galaxy.