i wonder if heaven is real or just a santa claus lie to keep us on our best behavior, to get us through this life like it’s a christmas eve night. patiently waiting for the arrival of good, the gift we’ve earned for believing in something we never really see. i wonder who i’m talking to every night before i go to sleep, i wonder if i’m just talking to my pillow or if someone is actually listening. sometimes i get so mad and i wonder where he was when my dad got sick, i wonder where he was when i let my wrists bleed out. i wonder where he was every time a child died for no reason. i wonder if he see’s that half of us are broke and the other half are breaking. i wonder if he see’s the world he planted from a seed is melting in the palm of his warm hands. i wonder if he knows some are convinced we are made up of mud and water, that we are dried by the sun like clay. that are bodies are just shells, and we don’t have souls just brains. i wonder if he knows i am talking to him. i’ve heard others say when you question his existence you question your stay in hell. i’ve heard others say don’t believe it til you see it. but what am i suppose to think when i’m on the fence, what am i suppose to ask when i can’t get an answer for any question? god, i am talking to you. god, i am asking you. i guess we could all be bodies of water and dirt, i guess we could be formed from an angel and have clipped wings. i guess we won’t know the answers until we lie down to die. but god damn, i wish i knew. i wish you’d answer me.
i.c. // talking to god (via delicatepoetry)
