Patmos Isle

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

Name:
Location: Texas, United States

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

Saturday, April 02, 2005

The 2nd

I awakened to the 2nd day of April, I awakened to this solitude of suffering, I awakened to this beginning of yet another day, that will be filled with the silent suffering.

I am told and have told, that this will be for my good, yet I happen to believe that there will be no more good.

The Dr. was kind last week, he said here, take these, they will help you. I have found them to only cause me restful sleep (I am thankful for that) yet they also cause me to stare at them and to stare at the time as well. Always asking myself, is it time now, is it time now, is it time now. I guess I have found a friend, a friend that let's me sleep, yet also a friend that will not let me be.

Tomorrow I fear, It will require of me to be this strong man, in whom I no longer seem to be able to stir, to awaken. This giant sleeps, this giant is in slumber, this giant has now become a coward. If I could just speak from my heart, if I could just let them hear my soul, if I could just let them see this acid washed spirit. Yet they do not pay me to be real, they pay me to be their puppet. I have said to the wind, come, blow over me. I have said to the rain, come, and rain on me. I have said to the storm, come, and take me down the river. Yet I seem to remain the same, I seem to remain untouched.

My
God I cry out to you in this hour. My God I cry out to you in this day. My God I cry out to you in this season. Allow thy hand to at least bring correction, give me thy wrath, give me thy sacred holy hand of anger. If you are not going to touch me to live, then touch me to die.

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