A Manic Night of Bipolar Rapture

I feel so freaking, God-like good; I feel My chest-expanding heart and the mad frenzy in My blood, which tear My mind and soul apart! These urgent voices in My head reverberate and echo loud memories and regrets now dead and buried in a forsaken shroud; they scream at Me, "You're the Devil!" They prophesy the Anti-Christ, and accuse Me of all the evil since mankind first became enticed. I refuse their shrill, satanic call; and find in the Apocalypse that God's avenging Angel of all is Me who is the world's eclipse. "Not Anti-Christ!" I now reply. "Not Devil!" I begin to shriek, "for the Lamb of the world am I, the Lord's Messiah for the meek!" Sinners will know their final hour; they will drown in their anguished cries when I at last will know My power, and expose all their wicked lies! In this soft, padded cell of white they watch and look at Me with dread; they view Me as a monstrous blight, and starve Me with unleavened bread. How long is My imprisonment? I cannot guess, divine, or tell; but from the look of that filament, they can keep Me for quite a spell; "Dear God! I hate these lousy drugs," I howl, "that they shoot in My ass!" They hold Me down those stupid thugs, injecting Thorazine so fast! They fail to grasp the true reasons why I'm here: I wish they could see that I can forgive their treasons, if they would just believe in Me? Once free again I'll be reborn, lifted up in divine Image; I'll end man's need for drugs and p*rn; and prepare them for God's Marriage. So hear My law and injunction, the lost will burn without release once they all know My dominion: only then will My Rapture cease!