LOSING MOMENTUM..

It's time to find religion and beliefs... They tell me faith heals....And maybe I should just be faithful.....It reminded me of a story I read a long time ago..... The other said... You can't find god, god finds you.....I think this time he has found me...

From late night bars and clubs.... I think I'll call it a quit.... From multiple women to be toyed in pleasure.... I am finding an alternative... I'm meek I'm weak...I think it's from too much alcohol...Loss of good night sleep haunted by nightmares that these days I have a favorite... It's fantastic.... Cold nights swollen eyes... It's a miracle that I am not yet Dead.....

I'm finding the face of the most high... If this is the way life will lead me.... I want to be at the Oasis...I'm kneeling at the altar.... Ready for  my atonement.... Head hanging low tears flow... I don't know what is the right path but I'm ready to find out....

Kneeling down my voice low sounds like whispers or maybe mumbles and murmurs ... Teach me how to pray for forgiveness... Who do I tell I'm submitting to... Ready to sacrifice all this and more.... Tell me does the god of this house take material stuff.... I'm eager to find my answers.....

I am ready to serve him... Just like I served alcohol and women and more.... I'm willing to kill and die for him... Isn't this what he wants from me... I want to be humble not thay I am not.... Is this where I shout his name and say Father father father take my hand... I cannot walk without you....

I'm looking for a place to hide my sorrows... Does the god of this house wipe tears from people's faces... I want to be redeemed... Why don't I know what to do.... This place feels at home... But who do I talk to.... I'm kneeling at the same spot at the altar.... I don't know anything about beliefs and faith... But I want to be faithful full.... I hear the god of this house heals the sick.... Erases the painful past and washes you clean... I hear he turns trials into tribulations I want to be this man changed... Somebody tell me.... Teach me how to talk to him.... I want to be his slave.... Chained like a pet bird... And religiously following his commandments.... I want to have my testimony.... I hear he heals....



©Hurt_Surgeon ™


Beblogpreston.blogspot.com

DEATH NOTE

@Preston_Andie

They said everyone becomes a poet someday in their lives.... They said poetry is the voice that speaks when your lips are too shy.... They say poetry writes on heart and souls like pencil on paper and walls ..... But I can't find enough puns to make things here fantastic....And my poetry cannot handle to much punchlines so that they call it puntastic.

It's days like this that I want to walk to our living room and hug my father.... Tell him good by and run to the garage with a knife.... It's is days like today... Where you suffer tremendous pain in your soul... And the silent neighborhood of your home doesn't really solve it....

This is where the breath in and out exercise don't work.....This is where I text all my friends and tell them good by till we meet again... Do you really understand.... My self sores....I want to close my eyes and pick my father's firearm and the bang be my goodbye...

This is where I go to the kitchen.... Take a look at my mother cooking and I take the table knife and go to my bedroom... No one will notice I'm gone... I swear... They don't even notice my presence this day.... I'll write names on a piece of paper.. those that I really love and those that I wanted them to love back....

This rooms are so noisy.... This are the days I want to let out my neighbor's hound. And let him devour me mercilessly... Do they think the pain matters... It would be once and goodbye will be how he licks his muzzle.

I want to go to my family doctor... Ask for an overdose of acetaminophen... Sleep sleep and never wake up... Or take an overdose of laxitive tablets.... Drown in my bathtub goodbye...I want to go to my family garden.... Take a rope.... I know how scary it would be when you all watch me kicking my life away... But that will be it...

My goodbye signed in thick red blood.... And it would be good bye in deed.....



©Hurt_Surgeon🐾



Beblogpreston.blogspot.com