Christians are those stupid people who look all smug and mighty when they have a question you can’t answer.  Yet, they claim to not have all the answers on a mysterious God they can’t explain…


It is God’s will to save a comfortable, white suburban but PRAYING believing family from the death of their father through cancer, yet it is also God’s will to let say, a PRAYING family in a third world, Muslim country to let a woman be murdered and raped for believing in Jesus. 

Why is that God will answer the millions of prayers for almost every problem imaginable, yet will not choose to answer ANY amputee’s prayers for another proper limb.  Is it God’s plan for every prayer BUT an amputee’s prayer to be answered?  Some might tell you that God wants things to be hidden, and guided through faith; amputees are too obvious!  Then why would God do something so obvious as to part the Red Sea, allow Jesus to heal the blind and lame, or even send his Son in the first place?? 

I hate blind faith with a passion.  I can reconcile someone saying that their faith is all they have, and in a dark place in their lives, NEED the idea of God or possibility of God to live out the rest of their lives.  I just CANNOT stomach, however, those who would proselytize and preach and argue and force onto others the beliefs they hold so dear.    I cannot stand those who believe that their own personal faith is not enough.  I want to be kind and open to all types of people and willing to discuss openly about faith.  But it is hard for me to be patient when talking to people who come into the conversation in a position of power, clearly strong and unshakable in their faith, ready in their high minded salvation, to talk down to me as if there is something they have that I need.

You always tell me I’m disappointing.
So is everyone, once you get to know them.

You told me I was a terrible people person,
but you couldn’t even handle the paranoia,
and fear that made you cower in your bed.

You’d blame me for everything,
took my life and you crucified me.

Three years later, we say we’re still friends,
But you’re just as disappointing as ever.

Heart palpitations, and my pulse races.
I hear your voice, and I pay the money,
to be in your company.
The drinks, the food,
the late night fucks.

But it’s all too short
the short end of the stick
always burns away far too quickly
And I know by the end
as embers fade, as the last of the smoke
fades from my lips
I’ll have to face my fear again,
the anxiety, disconnecting the sex
from validation.

And I’ll have to leave you soon.
“Tonight was supposed to be the best,”
you say as you orgasm,
“We won’t be able to do this again.”
the in and out and the fear is
palpable; you can taste it on my tongue,
my massaging, but trembling fingers.

I wanted it to be new again,
I really did.
To fit your whims
carving my life up to fit your demands.

And for me to stay here in place for you,
that was your addiction
that I couldn’t feed.