To the man standing on the corner holding the sign that said, “God Hates Gays": I’ve never seen exactly who it is that you paperclip your needs, melt your hands together and pray to but I think I know what he looks like. I bet your god’s about 5’10”. I bet he weighs 185. Probably stands the way a high school diploma does when it’s next to a GED… I bet your god wears flannel shirts with no sleeves, a fanny pack, and says words like “git er done." I bet your god plays a banjo. I bet he watches Fox News, Dog the Bounty Hunter, voted for John McCain, and loves Bill O’Reilly. I bet your god lives in Arizona. I bet his high school served racism in the cafeteria and offered hate speech as a second language. I bet he has a swastika inside of his throat and racial slurs tattooed to his tongue just to make intolerance more comfortable in his mouth. I bet he has a burning cross as a middle finger, Jim Crow underneath his nails. I bet your god is a Confederate flag’s wet dream, conceived on a day when the sky decided to slice her own wrists. I bet your god has a drinking problem. I bet he sees the bottom of a shot glass more often than his own children. I bet he pours whiskey on his dreams until they taste like good ideas. He probably cusses like an electric guitar with Tourettes plugged into the ocean. I bet he yells like a Schizophrenic nail gun damaging all things that care enough about him to get close. I bet there are angels in heaven with black eyes and broken halos who claim they fell down the stairs… Sooner or later you will realize that you are praying to your own shadow. That you are standing in front of mirrors worshiping your own reflection. Your god stole my God’s identity and I bet he’s been buying pieces of heaven on eBay. The next time you bend your knees, the next time you bow your head, I want you to tell your god that my God is looking for him
Posted on: Sun, 15 Sep 2013 10:21:25 +0000
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