“hell,
is your destination.”
he says
to me
so sure in his
rightousness
that he does not
consider
his acid-throwing
even possibly
wrong

“you sinner!
you blasphemer!
you blatant and
obvious servant
of Lucifer!”

“burn,
you shall,
in the depths
of the devil’s
cavern!”

“you should know
better
than to ally with
anyone else
but Him”

“beg God,
beg Him,
for forgiveness
and maybe,”

“just maybe,”

“you might
live in limbo
or correct
yourself within
purgatory”

“confess yourself,
young sinner!
confess yourself
and be free!”

he yells to me

so what you say,
I respond,
is that
I cannot
be anything else
but hell-
spawn?

for what?

for doing what
I think is right?

for coming up
with my own ideas?

for thinking that,
perhaps,
I can be happy
without an
imaginary
friend?

“IMAGINARY?”

yes!
yes,
imaginary!
fake!
ma­de-up!
a fallacy!
an abortion
of some terrified
cave-man’s
brain!

He
is not
real
but we,
we are!

“you’re going to hell”
he muttered
under his
breath

no I’m not!
I responded
I’ll just be
dirt and
dust and
be fine
with that

what better heaven could there be?