My daughter (bless her heart) and her born-again family are waiting for the Rapture, waiting to be whisked into the clouds to sit at the right hand of God for all eternity (how very quaint).
I can’t believe anyone could be so naïve as to believe in such a farfetched fairy tale and yet deny the existence of dinosaurs ever having walked the earth.
I would settle for dark oblivion any day of the week, where consciousness no longer troubles me. Jesus does not have to take me into his bosom. A deep, dark, eternal sleep will suffice.
They say that life is short and I say that if you believe such nonsense then you are more fearful of death’s mystery than life’s lingering monotony.
In my younger years, I was just as greedy as the next soul when it came to clutching onto life and its duration. I didn’t think I could get enough of it. Even the long boring periods were cherished moments, a time to ponder your banal state of being.
Chocolate cake and pussy (what could be better?). Potent blunts, six-packs galore, medium-cooked steaks, cream puffs and cinnamon rolls, good times by the dozen. Buckets of semen injected inside fine, tight quim and extracted by the shameless fistful.
Let the good times roll!…
...until they slow down to a crawl and you’re spun off into the wayside with dribble escaping your cracked heathen lips, hoping you don’t need anyone to come ‘round to wipe your ass today.
You can wait for Jesus if you like.
Give me freedom and uncage my soul.
I’ll sleep in darkness for eternity and hold death’s
hand close to my dreamless slumber.