#onlineprophet
I was a god once,
but I got bored
and turned myself into a girl
just to see what it felt like
to bleed on a schedule
and be underestimated at CVS.
I used to throw comets for fun.
Now I throw up from anxiety
and pretend it’s acid reflux.
I traded omniscience for online shopping.
Traded lightning bolts
for a Bic lighter
I keep losing in other people’s cars.
I used to be prayed to.
Now I pray I don’t get ghosted,
pray my Amazon Chase card wasn’t hacked,
pray I remember why I walked into the room.
I’ve lived for centuries.
You can tell by the way
I roll my eyes at time.
My bones know Latin.
My knees speak Morse.
My spine hums with prophecies
I keep forgetting to write down.
I was a god once.
But now I’m just really good at parties.
Really bad at sleeping.
Really into ChatGPT conversations
and spending 40 minutes at a time
inside my ear canal
with an inner-ear camera from Shein.
II watch body-cam arrest videos at 3AM
and wonder if I’d beg prettier on camera.
Sometimes everything that comes out of me
smells burnt.
I think I’d make a good Saint,
so I keep my eyes open for miracles—
but I only feel fire in my bones
when I’m overstimulated.
And I feel really sleepy the rest of the time.
I still have revelations,
but they only happen when I’m doom-scrolling.
I still search for splendors,
I just call them coping mechanisms now.
I make eye contact with hawks.
I smell rain before it happens.
I know who’s going to text me
before they do.
Then they don’t.
Sometimes I float—
but only in conversations.
I leave my body at least once a day.
Usually in traffic.
Sometimes while folding laundry.
Always when someone says,
“You don’t seem like the type to cry.”
I was a god once.
And now I’m this.
A walking myth in leggings.
A fallen star with a Dollar Tree receipt so long
it reads like scripture.
Don’t worship me.
Just don’t interrupt me
when I’m talking to the moon.
Mar 28, 2025
Mar 28, 2025 at 9:37 AM UTC