I just hope it is them

in #writing5 years ago

When I call to God, there is no answer.
I’m immediately placed on hold,
Or automatically transferred
To a different department.
It has always been this way,
And it will always be.

I chuckle at the thought of God,
For he and I talk, every Thursday
Over a steak and a half-baked potato
In chance of a miracle, that I will
Get a decent meal.
Then, at the end of the night, I ask,
“What happened?”

For those who do not know,
Fresh air is the enemy of all drinkers.
For everyone is fine, until they reach
The front door. Then Boom,
Fresh air hits the brain and reminds them
That gravity still exists.
It is like telling a man that he can’t walk on water.

That is why I use the back exit.
The obnoxious smells of the alley
Are like smelling salt. Two whiffs
And I am prepared to stagger three blocks,
Crawl one flight of stairs, and flop in the proximity
Of my bed, if not on it.

But tonight is different.
Tonight, the shadows move, two to be exact.
“God, are you there?” I hear a click, then an angelic tune.
My call is being transferred

There is an advantage to fighting under the influence.
It is the belief that I can win, even when my brain says I can’t
Anyone that listens to his brain during a fight
Is a fucking idiot. Brains have no business on the battlefield.
Many generals, in history, have proven that.

I choose to keep walking, as if I do not know their intent.
Of course I know the what, where and when.
I even know the how. For I have seen this too many times.
And I have trained too many years, way too many, not to know…
Somebody will die. I just hope it is them.
from google

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