God's Tears

"Why God?!" My hands thrust toward the sky and dropping on my knees to the muddied earth below me, I cried out louder, "Why have you done this? What have I done to deserve this hell?"
But no answer came. No remarkable sign or wash of feelings, just me, firmly in my place within the same soil from which I was supposedly created. Why then does the ground not bleed as I pour red from my engraved wrists which joins the rain and runs toward the grass like lightning looking for ground.
"I'm done with you! I'm not calling out to you for forgiveness, I've done that too often. I don't want your damn help anymore, I defy you! I deny you! Come on you wicked bastard, strike me down! I'm a sinner! Stop making me suffer and just punish me!"
I thrust my chest out, arms back; offering a target to the clouds and with clenched fists, I scream, "Strike me down! Punish me for my sins! My suicide is my last act of treachery and still you do nothing! I dare you, cast me down to Lucifer's infernal pit for my actions! You are nothing!"
Yet, there was no lightning. No earthquake. He didn't even send a runaway semi truck to plow me down. Nothing struck me but the weeping of God's tears streaking through the skies, striking my face and intermingling with my own pain, though, by this time I could no longer feel their thousands of little assaults.
I stewed in my own emotional Armageddon with silence and stillness as I bled out from the ends of my arms for an eternity. Suddenly, I noticed a sensation that had been with me for a while as my face gained a utopic warmth and a chaotic pulse of pin prickling brought my awareness to my gashed and gaping wrists, though my sight was dimming and I couldn't witness the crimson waterfalls. My ears caught the movement of dozens of invisible bees. It was no sooner than this point that God had finally decided to answer my challenge as his voice cut through the swarm, "I'm here to help you poor child."
By this time, my eyes have gone and my mind was following, so I couldn't glare into God's face. To double my rage, the dirt below me pulled all of my strength from my body so I was too weak to throw my fist but I intentionally radiated my immeasurable hate. Not even this deterred the almighty one from attempting to saving me by offering.....to call for paramedics?
My ears were the last to fail me and I was finally fully cloaked in the warm void.

Disconnected

My shirt pulls to the right. My pants want to wear to the left. One sock is on right but the other seems to have an invisible wad of discomfort invading on my little toe. I am watching my life from a third person view, not really inside my head but maybe just behind and all the sounds are muted, not silenced but suppressed. I have combed my hair a few times but can't stop the lanate rebellion no matter how hard I assault the counter with my brush. My shoelace is a python, constricting against the top of my foot and I can't sit comfortably in my clothes. All fabrics want to be anywhere but with me and I can't blame them, I am feeling the same way. The wad in my sock is backing my toe into a corner I didn't know my shoe even had. I'm not ready to start the day, I want to return to my awkward but reliable slumber. My keys seem to be hiding, my coat conflicts with my shirt, everything is just out of reach.
Now I have to go out, immerse myself in the swamp of humanity. Walking in crowds, suffocating, and the tar of interaction nearly brings me to a stop. Why am I being overwhelmed by this negativity? I analyze my life, my relationships, my self, my work, my habits, my dog, my analyzations. In each environment, I know there is good but I can't see past the small things. People are talking at me but I don't hear what they say. Focus is a lie. I'm sure these people tire of repeating themselves but I can't quite hold my thoughts on their blabbering. Nothing they say is important. I think my heart is beating a skip too late, maybe too early. Nothing really fits.
I think there is cotton under my upper eyelids and I feel as though I am deep under water. I move as though hindered and the constant pressure from all directions makes me want to implode. What does an imploder look like? I swim through my day, my feet constantly entangling in the gritty, oily seaweed. How long have I been under and why can't I keep my head above water? This lethargy is trying to kill me and that pisses me off. Everything pisses me off and THAT pisses me off. If I was actually in my own life, I might do something about it but I'm just watching me on TV and so I wait and hope that all these problems resolve themselves by the end of the hour.
I keep everyone at arm's distance. I am afraid to infect you, to poison you with my irrational negativity. Colors are askewed and distance is debatable. I know you, maybe care for you...if you are close in my life, then I love you but no matter who you are, I can't stand you. Your annoying little habits, your patterns that don't sit within my logic. You aren't funny. You aren't clever. You aren't witty. You aren't cute. I know that's a lie and when I can finally stay afloat, I will see your energy in a different light but right now, while I'm so detached; you bother me. You piss me off. Am I just projecting? Do I see my own flaws in your actions? These feelings are all subjective and when my mind becomes mine again, the subject won't change but the view will.
The buzzing doesn't end and I ask if it ever will? I look at life again and analyze it. I see great things here that should cause my joy. I see my success and the rewards of my efforts. Today, they don't feel much like my rewards or my efforts. I am out of place. I am one step behind my body, following the automaton that pretends to live through my life. I can't catch up but I can't stop following. Where is he going? Where am I going? I guess I will find out when I get there. Perhaps, when I am there, I might fit again. I might be alive again and not just watching. I might be me.