I still feel like a jerk for only praying
during turbulence…airplanes shaking me
back to the fear- but maybe God feels
bad for playing would-you-rather with my
soul – My mental stability didn’t need that,
had to do gymnastics with my neurons-
pole-vaulting over my concept of an
afterlife. Jesus is not my get-out-of-hell free card.
I refuse to wait until death for utopia.
We build it here, now.