through the eye of a needle

i do not have a camel or even a dishwasher.
if i have learned anything in the last few months
it is that the other side does not exist.
i'm not talking about the afterlife. i don't
have time to worry about that. i mean 
whenever there is a door there isn't a door.
i mean they will show you a hallway of needles
& tell you the world is yours for 
the shaking. you will hold out a pinky finger &
try as hard as you can to fit through 
the eyes. none of them will open. sometimes 
i consider making a deal with a mosquito.
drinking garnet blood until i am as fat as i can be.
then, thinning to the size of a whisper & maybe
just maybe fitting through. 
we are giants to some creatures & ants to others.
when i was small & church-going i remember
the priest giving a homily about the phrase,
"it is easier for a camel to fit through the eye
of a needle than a rich person to get into heaven."
i guess i am in fact talking about heaven. i don't want
to be on the same side of the end times 
as rich people but the presence of an empire is always
a plummeting set of choices. you can be
the knob or you can be the hinge
but you can never be the way through. i sometimes
consider going to a psychic off the highway
because i would like someone to lie to me
really sincerely. for them to take my hands
& tell me that my (not dead) father is trying
to confess. i buy more needles. pile them in 
the dancing place by which i mean the bathtub.
if i dive in i will have to pass through one. 
i promise i'll write. i promise i'll bring honey 
even if it is just a thread's worth. i want to betray
every horror. be softer & maybe in the mix
of all of it, collapse the throat. never make it back.