There you go again, bouncing on those stairs, and flaunting your round perfect little badonkadonks, inside that holy place and diverting my attention away from the drill machine, and shit, I am just one careless moment away from pegging a nail through my thumb, like come on, why would you do that on a Monday, on a Tuesday, on any goddamn day or night for any goddamn god?
It’s worth no trouble, plus your god, I say, if at all he is out there, is not listening to you, or your prayers, or your gospels, or your aartis, and he isn’t accountable for your mess or desires—he is busy. He is busy like I am busy, and I am busy like I am supposed to be, and I am supposed to be busy like I already am— being an obnoxious, breast staring, butt pinching, foul mouthing pervert.
But don’t blame me for how I may think, or behave, because your higher power isn’t blaming me either, and for all you know, he is perhaps pacing in his heaven corridor too, panicking and smoking a holy cigarette or a virgin joint—because he is the god and he is the virtuous one, and he doesn’t like adulterations and all that?—and man, I don’t know, maybe he is also kicking buckets and vandalizing heaven’s properties, because he is upset, and doesn’t have answers to all your prayers and maybe, he is also kicking a crystal pedestal lamp amidst the clouds from one end to the other, putting lives and people down, making some of you paralyzed for some shit you did in seventh grade, and when he is done throwing the towel, he is going like, this sucks, that sucks, you suck, your mom sucks, I don’t know why I agreed to do this shit, this whole program is buggy and this overall human race is fucked up!
Plus, only, believe me, it’s not his beeswax, to answer your prayers on Facebook Continue reading
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