the invention of religion.

day 159: the guy i share a cave with is leaving today. hes gone to tell anything he can find of this "fire" invention we found. now, i know he'll probably get all the credit but who cares? i get the cave and this fire to myself. that means no large animals and i can invite that shapely, less hairy individual over. i remember when i was the only person here. all the caves were mine. i named all the animals. everything was so peaceful. now everyone wants answers, everyone wants power, they want to do this, why not that, its so much more a hassle these days..

day 200: the man i sent with fire has returned. he says that more are coming. its a 20 day trek, unless you're on the back of some beast. or if you are some beast. maybe i can find some kind of way to make things move faster. but honestly, i don't want anymore bodies here. food is running low, attitudes are high and i miss my solitude. i found all the best gifts when i was alone. food, water, fire, my penis. everything. maybe i should sneak out and leave this less hairy one here.

day 215: well i did it. i made what i call the "wheel". it was pretty easy too. i sat up on my favorite hill with a few grapes. i was eating pleasantly, when one slipped from my hand. it ran all the was to the bottom of the hill, without stopping. so, i tried rolling an apple, a banana, a cocoanut and a person down the hill. the banana had the hardest time. the person wasn't too happy...but they weren't too hurt either. so i figured things with a generally spherical exterior have the tendency to roll. tried a few rocks and eureka! i made a few little wheels, they rolled. i, then, put holes in the middle and sticks in those holes and tied sticks to those sticks to keep them together. it wasn't big enough to hold the pet meow but it was big enough to call a success. tomorrow i start the bigger task.

day 230: well, its finished. i have made the wheel. its about three feet tall and made of stone. it can roll and carry anything without cracking. i'll make three more and attach a bamboo cart to them. some type of beast will have to pull it around.  but a more pressing issue plagues me tonight as i scribble these hieroglyphics on this wall...i have made almost every important thing on this planet. fire. wheel. but who made my materials? who made me? i can't stop this heaving in my chest; why? there has to be a great...maker. the man or beast that made us, here, right? maybe the sun did it. maybe the moon or the stars. or maybe they, too, are products of the great maker's hands. we must begin to thank this great maker for making us, even if we do not see or know if he is there. many will object to thanking nobody, many more will not understand but, thus far, i am the smartest man here and i say thank the great maker. what do we call believing in the unbelievable? faith. we will call it faith. did i make that or did the great maker make me make it? either way, thank you great maker for making me with your callused and strong hands. i wish my inventions would speak up and thank me. one day, i'll invent a talking invention so it can thank me. and they will praise me as i praise you. 

day 231: everyone is thanking the great maker as i write. they all believe. they all have faith. we all thank you great maker. will we ever know who you are? oh, and since we've started to really name things, i've decided to take the title of "Adam."

empty world.

a story of subtle depressions.

stark naked surrounded by these photographs, i remember things i had once forgot.
they say photographs take a piece of your soul.
i think that holds some truth. how else would looking at them help you relive some of those memories. those sudden moments that you suddenly forget shortly thereafter.

i have taken the souls of many. i have taken them with me. held them captive. used them for strength.

and now that i've come to return the souls to their rightful owners, they've gone awol.

so here i lie.
here i lay.
nude.
exposed.
with you.
all of you.
and this little bitty black bic.

i fight gravity and rise to my feet.
i fight disappointment and rise to my feet.
i overcome defeat and rise to my feet.

with every iota of strength in both arms, this little bitty black bic is slammed to the floor.
it explodes as lighters sometimes do.
a lot of things happen at that moment.

there was a loud crack
fire erupted using your souls as the fuel
you all scream and cry and this inferno becomes your hell.
i become the devil.
the corners of your confinement singe black and crumble into ashes
the inferno grows.
the only living soul dies along with the captured ones.

and a new man walks out of the flames.
be he phoenix, satan, jesus or nil.
or be they all, at this point, synonymous.

the pain.

sometimes, i dream peaceful dreams. 

there are clear skies with perfect white clouds. the grass is beautifully green.  animals prance around, in harmony. 

everything is calm. 

i had a dream like that tonight. but it was interrupted. 

an odd sensation crept into my body as i laid stiff and still on this queen sized mattress. from my toes up my legs, through my pelvis, abs, all the way to the very tip of my head. 

i squirm and try to shake it off but it doesn't leave. it persist. 

"stop." i groan weakly.

it doesn't. 

this happens often and i'm used to it but i often do not enjoy it. 

it intensifies. the sensation turns into some kind of pain. 

i cringe. grip and rip my sheets. i wish it'd cease, but i know it won't.

it begins to feel as though this pain is trying to rip certain things out from the inside of me.

i cannot let it. i hold on for dear life. still, drips of my soul are extracted. 

yet the pain persists. 

i stand to my feet to confront this deamon. i will not die lying down. 

it intensifies still. pulling, ripping, gouging. 

i clench my teeth, my toes grip the sheets, my brow sweats, my hands hold onto the ceiling for support.

the determination of this beast is insurmountable. 

i know i cannot win.

and once i bathe myself in defeat, the rest of my innards are released. 

my knees buckle but in my pride, i catch myself. 

i know i have died a little.

"le petite mort"

she finishes with a slurp

and i collapse.