Sometimes I believe in God. Not always. Mostly on the days when he comes up to me in the park or in a café to say hi. It's kinda hard to deny him then... I trust my eyes.
But then he tells me,
- Son, do you mock me with that so called faith of yours? How many of your prayers do you think I've ever listened to?
- I don't pray, I reply.
- Exactly... dimwit. What you have is not faith, it's passion. Much stronger, but harder to control... plus, it belongs in hell...
After that I think he proceeds to insult me. He forgets words and leaves sentences unfinished. He is old and senile and difficult to follow.
I tell him that there's no need to worry, that I swallowed his cross a long time ago and that the faint glow it still has inside me will soon be dead. He nods happily at this and walks away.
And I stand rekindled...
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with a knife in my hand. It spills no blood, but my shadow is terrified. So much fear pours from it that I forget to breathe.
I have no heartbeat.
Sometimes I hold your hands and sing.
You can't get loose... and you cry...
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