the girl performs an autopsy on tuesday; rave [blitz]

It is a Tuesday.

There are stars in the sky and they are shining brighter than I believe I have ever seen them shine before. They seem to set alight the ground beneath my feet, a sort of calling to the great beyond, to the great feeling of some sort of epiphany beyond my understanding.

I follow them without a moment’s hesitation, without a second-guess or a glance to the clock at three in the morning.

As we float, I hear music in the blades of grass being trampled beneath my feet. It is not the second-course chorus of defeat, but grace being given on the night of destruction. This is madness by no other name to some; this is heaven, pure, untrammeled to me.

Wandering and wondering all the same I find myself stopped by chain-link fence and tired feet. The stars are not pointing to the place at which I am, but fifty feet beyond. I turn the padlock over in my palm before determining that this is not the ideal way to travel to euphoria.

But there is blonde hair, an indiscernible color in the eyes, and another chance at glory standing beyond the boundary, and I believe that this is what it looks like to see god and not be worthy. I wave to her and attempt to speak to divinity from the lowest point in the valley.

I am grasping at the opportunity to be god.

When her attention turns to me, I call out, “Can you let me in?”

I remember she is god.

“Can you let me in, please?”