Patmos Isle

The life of a Pastor, one who has been beaten and left to die by his own kind.

Location: Texas, United States

I consider myself as one that has seen the dark side of humanity and has lived to speak of it.

Monday, March 14, 2005

City of the dead

No doubt I have crossed over once again. You know I said, it would never happen again, I promised myself.... You will never go that far again, you will do something, say something, go somewhere, get some help.

Why can't I just snap out of this, why can't I just wake up? I have entered the city of the dead, the city where no man lives. The city that conquers all of mans dreams and visions, the city where life is sucked from the bones of mortal man.

I remember these stones, I remember throwing myself upon them, thinking if I could just be crushed, then I could heal. If something would just break, then it could mend. Amazing how these rocks bruise but never crush, how these rocks bring pain but never break.

I know I am not alone in this city, I can hear the faint cries of them that are hidden by this fog of sorrow. I know this sounds evil, but I am thankful to know, that I am not alone. It is not that I rejoice in the sorrow of others, it's just comforting to know that this graveyard is not as lonely as it seems to be. Hey, maybe we will stumble upon each other, then again, maybe we will fall into a hole.


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