I protect. That's what I do.

[points to anything that isn’t an animal] that’s some good 6th day of creation shit

substituting curse words with words from dead languages

“Good job, Gabriel. “

arguing over which wing is more important to flight

“I can’t believe it’s not the Roman empire!”

God said let there be [anything that wasn’t included in the days of creation]

“Not Babylon again”

dinosaur bones in places they shouldn’t be

“it takes a village to raise the antichrist”

[playing Highway to Hell on a harp}

“Mount Vesuvius was a clerical error”

coming up with creative names for poisonous plants, then giving them to Michael as a new hair product

“Just because Jesus took a 3 day nap doesn’t mean you get one”

“I’ve got the body of a loaf of bread and enough alcohol in my veins to be called Jesus, too”

[anytime something bad happens] at least it’s not leprosy

i wipe the blood onto my clothes before setting it atop my head

Angels in seedy bars, drinking strong liquor and inhaling smoke.

Angels riding the subway, crowded and rickety.

angels lying crumpled on a park bench at one am, angels sitting on the side of a water fountain and fishing out pennies, angels learning what a hamburger tastes like. angels who can’t get over all the grit and grime of humanity, who’re baffled by car exhaust and avoid seedy bars at all costs- and on the contrary angels who seek out the dirty places, who fill their insides with smoke + tar to muffle the constant call of heaven.

 angels with coal dust on their wings, angels who breathe in smog and step daintily around puddles of oil, or some that have been on earth long enough to just step right through them. angels have something about them that makes passerby crane their necks, to turn and look back at one on a busy street, but they fade into the crowd, unable to be discerned from the multitude.

angels who visit small churches and fill up their empty soda bottles with holy water. (angels who are somewhat surprised it doesn’t burn when it touches their lips.) angels who feel tainted in some subtle way by sticky fountain drinks so they take to constantly sipping wine that’s as red as the blood of the Lamb.

tattooed angels with crosses on their foreheads and stigmata on their hands, angels with stained glass windows painstakingly replicated on their backs. angels with fine clothing and well-kept hair, with jangling necklaces and painted faces, for is not their vessel from god and should it not be cared for to the fullest extent?

or- angels as plain as possible, in white t-shirts and the cheapest flip-flops they could find, who are constantly forgetting to eat, because while their body is a gift, they know they have something greater to focus on.

angels who keep glancing heavenward when they’re walking down the street and bumping into passerby. angels who clamber up to the roof of skyscrapers at night, looking up into the stars and allowing themselves to really feel that constant ache of longing that threatens to tear them apart.