She woke up in the darkest of the brightest nights. The moon shone down as a diamond of impossibilities. And everything was possible now. She woke up a Goddess. The God. The one and only, the all-powerful Singularity of Truth and Everything. There was nothing, then she was. In the dark streets of the month of May, she walked down a dark corridor of trash and dissolution, looking for what meaning might be behind this. No meaning can be found when you are a god. That’s why you create, that’s why the mortals create to: to be meaningful in themselves. She knew nothing before, and now she knew everything, and it hurt. As she walked down the Street, Her Heart beating ceaselessly - she didn’t need it. She could be all, she could choose anything. She started to create, she started to look, she started to live everything she ever could have thought or not. But there’s a point in the life of a God that you get bored. Boredoom is the highest form of Torture, a pain even a God can feel. She fell down from Her Heaven and was looking for something that was Impossible as Her. She looked and looked, but the Impossible thing can’t even be thought by a God, it just is. She wanted something she couldn’t create or destroy or change or remediate. She cut herself out of the Boredom. From HER BLOOD came down the Evil that she so, so came to love. She got obsessed with it. There was another girl, an other that she couldn’t touch. She wanted and desired and felt and failed, and that was Truth itself that was entering her. She loved the other one because she couldn’t be and she wouldn’t be and she shouldn’t be and so she loved. “Open thy Heart,” she would say, but there was no answer from the Unanswerable Impossibility that she fell in love with. It ate Her Flesh and then ate Her Being and then destroyed and reconstructed Her again. Love hurts and cuts and bites and amends and divides and she needed it and she wanted it and she just couldn’t live without it and without the Impossible girl she so loved. Then in the fogness of Her own Mind She heard a voice that grew from her Heart. “Say it, say what You Think. I know, but you can’t reach me.” The Goddess wanted to Scream the ever loving Hell from the After Death of Her own Soul, but she really couldn’t reach her. “Open thy Heart, please, open it for Me..” She could only beg, but the Impossible Girl didn’t do it. She didn’t let herself bleed for Her. She wanted to consume her Flesh but she was Impossible and didn’t let it happen. She craved her flesh and blood and heart and she couldn’t give it up ever again. “Please, open it.. Give it to ME.” The Universe Screamed for Her but the other one wouldn’t listen. She smiled and smirked and smiled again on the neverending Sadistic Homoerotic Magic. She loved and loved and begged and offered the other gifts but she didn’t accept it. So the Impossible Girl made a proposal: “You can love me if Your Soul and Liquid become One and Nothing with mine.” And so The Goddess laughed in her Sapphic love and became Nothing with the Impossible Girl so they could love and flow as None for all eternity.

(This was an exercise on Surrealist automatic writing)