Confessions (or God is in the Ceiling) VIII

VIII.

I like sex. A lot. But I get infections. A lot. Is God trying to tell me something?

I’m not the only one obsessed with God. Children of a Lesser God. The God of Small Things. Tell me all your thoughts on God, ‘cause I’d really like to meet her…Now that’s just plain silly. God is neither he, nor she, nor it.

Back to sex.

God is dead. Can you believe it? Now for that statement to carry the weight that it does means that God had to have been at some point, kind of a big deal.

And now God is dead, everywhere and all around me. Except for in the ceiling.

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