The End of Everything

I was exfoliating with a friend
And popping mouthfuls of assorted pills,
Accompanied by smoked meat, slaw, and dills,
When she did something she did not intend:
She talked to God. That should have been the end
Of everything, but I just have to lend
An ear when she discusses these new thrills,
How she sees prophets on the windowsills
And angels in my hair. I have to bend.

I don't believe in God. An atheist
Would say, however, that I'm dithering,
Expecting angels to descend and sing.
Well, something fell, with a hell of a twist
And, weeping, mashed its face against my fist.
That should have been the end of everything.