What can I say a day later after God used me to write last nights piece.

I don’t think I’m anything special. I can do shit that most can’t, but it doesn’t make me better than any of you.

God embarrassed me writing that shit.

I wrote song once upon a time that Swilly recorded.  Angel of Mercy.

I write, or I used to write a shit ton of poetry and this one time, someone said I need a back beat when I read it. I didn’t think so, then one time when I was hanging out at The Bassmint on Friday, someone brought a back beat.

I did spoken word that night and, I was wrong. My words hit the beat and it was pure fucking magic.

Then I had my stroke. My speech is getting better, but I don’t think I could do spoken word. My memory is intact. 

I would love to do spoken word again. At some point I will. But first I need to get the fuck out of the Torres shelter.

So, there’s something I need to talk about.

God said that someone has been reading me since bubblews.  This is a person I would really love to have a conversation with.

To you, whomever you are this is for you.

Why?

Why in the blue holy fuck have you been reading everything I write without talking to me?

From my perspective, total cowardice.

Are you a coward?

That’s the only thing that makes a bit of sense.

And if you do exist, show the fuck up or stop reading everything I write.

Now, if you do show the fuck up, let’s talk.

And I’m giving you until Friday. 

Either fuck the fuck off or show the fuck up.

More than 10 years that someone has been reading everything I write, what would you do if you were me?

Put yourself in my shoes.

This is for everyone. 

You feel a presence all the time, and no one ever shows.

You think you must be crazy as bat shit gets.

One word to let you know you’re not.

You decide that you’re crazy. There’s no one that has read everything you’ve wrote for more than ten years.

So you fuck it off.

That feeling you get, you tell it to fuck off. Just so you can feel sane.

I’m tired of it. More than ten years.

Think about it as if you were me.

Now, I trust God. 

Whoever this is, this is your test. Show up or fuck the fuck off.

Second chances.

How many chances have you had to send me an email, a phone call, a face to face.

I give people a million second chances, after that they’re fucked.

This is your last fucking chance.

Now as for the other shit God said about me.

I get I’m a coherent dude.  My fear is giving the wrong guidance. 

Demons were my friends. Angels are my friends.

Notice the difference. 

Were and are.

I did so much foolish shit that demons were needed to guide me through it. I’m a medium that channels high energy beings. Angels and demons. 

It’s a life. One is suggest that no one do as I’ve done. Why did I do it?

I was bored and my inner voice said try this.

It wasn’t until I figure out the Gyre shit that I figured out that was God. 

For 51 years I always thought God was out there. Oh how fucking wrong I was.

Have a blessed one and be excellent always.