#asbestos?

Depressed Rook silly sketch time.

I went through the circles.

Satan was a small thing,

With broken wings and a quiet voice.

The bubbling of the eternal pot rang much louder than he, amongst the glooms.

The chamber billowed, the cavernous hallways and plunderous side-cupboards broiled.

These things were more inviting than many earthly broilers.

The warmth thickly built and tickled the tips of my hair,

Like lightning was about to strike—

Shocking and warm.

Doves delivered me back up,

Heaven I went.

I arrived on the threaded wings of a wind-up angel.

I knew that I was very high up because breaths in the air turned into asbestos shards with every exhale.

The skies were big and round like a bowl, and there were no walls, nor ceiling, nor floor.

No little nooks or crooks or cupboards.

Everything was much too big or much too widened.

Love seeped like unwilling geysers—

And I were surrounded by light.

God had simian eyes and a simian face and a simian brow.

God was a monkey

Under a guilten cloud.