I walked into a church, crying. Sobbing I said "I have an evil that follows me everywhere, I think it's going to kill me".
What do you need my child, was what a priest asked I said I needed "coke, ecstasy, 2 packs of Marlboro, *looking up from past my hand* a thermos of coffee and a dildo the size of Texas, a drug dealer just fucked my wife."
He asked what I meant. So I gave him my trivialities about drugs, how they are basically what our minds and lives are made out of. How sex is just our body making drugs for us in a lot of ways. And how sex on drugs can be like tying a forever knot, that only unravels by the sword. Making a bloody bag of my wife could be forgiven but never forgotten. We got a divorce a couple days later, it was within a week of us getting married.The priest became my good friend. We were hungry in our town, in those days. We just waited for the good times. The drug dealers kept to their grottos and castles while most of us worked the street earning money helping one another buy tic tacs or helping old ladies get their shopping bags to the car. One day they offered to become my roommate. They offered to split things 50/50, they would buy my food and my daily ration of liquor I'd drive them to work. It sounded like a good arrangement. The priest only worked on the weekends, if that makes sense anymore. He kept to a little office in the apartment so I smelled harmless enough for us to share the space. We saved a lot of our money that way. I only had to do the laundry on the couch once a week and we always were looking for someone to build a bed but people just don't do carpentry like they used to. I went into the apartment one day and it was spotless though. I noticed it was very clean. Unbecomingly clean for us. "Hi how's everything? You missed a couple calls I'm sorry" the priest said, then he told me his name for one of a few times in his life. The priest had a member of our church coming over for private counseling and asked me to stay out of the apartment for a few hours. When I came back, there was nothing but trash in the sink and a girl was walking out shivering at 3 in the afternoon in July. We lived in Georgia. I couldn't understand what was going on so I asked the priest what he was helping with. "Forgive me for I have given in to temptation my son, and so should you."
I didn't know how to respond, I guess they saw that "We are doing drugs from now on. They'll make you forget about that girl you tried to marry and then some more." "I will not." I saidThe priest grabbed a handful from their bag of coke and threw it at me, I got unbelievably scared and I started sweating. Then he took me for the passions. I decided I'd buy a gun, and I did. I shot the pastor, took them for not a priest, priest no but I killed the minister of destruction myself. Then I got a call from my ex wife in jail. She said she wanted to know if our mutual friend was still doing coke, as if she must've thought I didn't know she was addicted. It never changes. The priests name was the one she named our baby that she carried to term so she says. Please your honor, pardon me so I can fight in this war against drug abuse, with my clear wits and sobriety. If I stay in here I'll have to fuck myself and I'd be better off than not doing coke. If you say I didn't kill that man in self defense. Even after I succumbed to the passions. I will not fail that son of mine killed by a drug dealers cock your honor!
Welcome to being human.No amount of delusional can fix this.Religion is just a quick placebo for weak minded people who lack spine and the ability to handle life on their own terms.
