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"The Warmth of Hot Chocolate"

Thylias Moss

Someone told me I didn't exist, even though he was looking dead at me.
He said since I defied logic, I wasn't real,
for reality is one of logic's definitions.
He said I was a contradiction of terms,
that one side of me cancelled out the other side,
leaving nothing. His knees were like polite maracas in the small clicking they made.
His mustache seemed a misplaced smile.
My compliments did not deter him from insisting he conversed with an empty space,
since there was no such thing as an angel who doesn't believe in God.
I showed him where my wings had been recently trimmed.
Everybody thinks that they grow out of the back,
some even assume shoulder blades are all man has left of past glory,
but my wings actually grow out of my scalp,
a heavy hair that stiffens for flight by the release of chemical secretions
activated whenever I jump off of a bridge.
Many angels are discovered when people trying to commit suicide ride and tame the air.
I was just such an accident.
We're simply a different species.
Not intrinsically holy, just intrinsically airborne.
Demons have practical reasons for not flying.
It's too hot in their homebase to endure all of that hair.
Besides, the heat makes the chemicals boil away
so demons plummet when they jump and keep falling.
Their homebase isn't solid.
Demons fall perpetually, deeper and deeper into evil
until they reach a level where even to ascend is to fall.
I think God covets my wings.
He forgot to make some for Himself when He was forging Himself out of pure thoughts
rambling through the universe on the backs of neutrons.
Pure thoughts were the origional cowboys.
I suggested to God that he jump off of a bridge to activate the wings He was sure to have,
you never forget yourself when you divvy up the booty,
but He didn't have enough faith that His fall wouldn't be endless.
I suggested that He did, in fact, create wings for Himself, but had forgotten.
His first Godly act had been performed a long time ago, after all.
I don't believe in Him. He's just a casual aquaintance,
a comfortable associate with whom I can be myself.
To believe in Him would place Him in the center of the universe,
when He's far more secure in the fringes,
so He doesn't have to look over His shoulder to nab the backstabbers who want promotions,
but are tired of waiting for Him to die and set in motion the natural evolution.
God doesn't want to evolve.
Has been against evolution from its creation.
He doesn't figure many possibilites are open to Him.
I think He's wise to bide His time, even though He pales in the moonlight to just a glow...
just the warmth of hot chocolate spreading through the body like a subcutaneous halo.
But to trust in Him implicitly would be a mistake,
for then He would not have to maintain His worthiness to be God.
Even the thinnest flyweight modicum of doubt gives God the neccesity
to prove He's worthy of the implicet trust I can never give
because I protect Him from corruption,
from the complacency that rises withim Him sometimes,
a shadowy ever-descending brother.