2:34 AM

Death...

I've never felt closer to you. You... Sheol... I have a special name for you today... Fetor hepaticus. Breath of the dead we call it. And you knew it. You were following his every move. With time... Accumulation. With accumulation, you carefully placed yourself in his blood. With every inhale... exhale....his aspirations grew violent. I couldn't catch his choke. I didn't know how. Liver flowing with disease following it's natural process.... You created a poisonous path aiming straight for his broken heart. His last taste of life was dark and bitter. I take a sip for him. My pallet seduces my mind. My mind releases my body and there he is... Brought back to life through me. His touch on my face is warm in my tears. My heart grows heavy with his pain. I close my heavy eyes in sleep to be released from his death only to wake again with his life on my mind. I don't know what I'd do without my hope. 

Hosea 13:14

From the power of the grave I will redeem them;

From death I will recover them.

Where are your stings, O Death?

Where is your destructiveness, O Grave?

The resurrection of the dead, an underserved kindness on God's part, is essential to mankind's happiness and to the undoing of all the harm, suffering, and oppression the have come upon the human race. These things have befallen man as a result of his imperfection and sickness, the wars he has waged, the murders committed, and the inhumanities practiced by wicked people at the instance of Satan the Devil. We cannot be completely happy if we do not believe in a resurrection. The apostle Paul expressed the feeling in these words: "If in this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all men to men to be pitied,"-1Co 15:19

Where do I start?

As usual I come back to this road... This space of links and numbers and no connecting. Back to these desperate notes I leave trailing about once a year now it seems... Which makes no sense. I assure you.... whoever reads these things... that my life is like a brilliantly ruined record. Classic, richly cracked, scratched vinyl... With 365 days a year, a slot of time in a day... I would succeed my successors in blogging post. I always show up with a story to tell. Always. Though I would like to form my next sentence with the words "I hold my peace" I am afraid that this is the only outlet I have left... I never imagined so much pain. There is no peace. Hasn't been for so long. Stuck here again. Alone. When I lay down to sleep, it feels like I have been shot in my heart and he....he in his own precious head. I wake up each day with the taste of blood in my mouth. The words... Why?? How???...are seconds and thoughts of  "If only I could have" "This isn't real".... are by the minute. My mouth is full and I cant hold this thick rage... I spew these bloody words all over the innocent. The ones who will never understand what it feels like to swallow the abyss. Watch me simmer in thought and bitter as I keep these pages blank. I don't know if I'm ready.