Home

Its very difficult.

Let me take off my shoes - its cold in here. I took off my shirt but its cold. I would rather have it off but its cold. I didn't like it on - but its cold in here - in my heart.

I used to believe in God. I used to choose every day to believe in God. Now I'm cold and alone. It's not God's fault.

Let me take off my shoes. Not imagine it, but actually do it. Unbuckle and take them off one by one. I think i can do it - but something's slowng me down - so slow and so cold. I can't decide if its real or if i'm imagining it. Am i cold? Where is it cold? Am i uncomfortable? is it all in my head?

I can be ok. Sometimes i am ok. Sometimes I am GREAT!

Let me take these shoes off.

Now they're off. I don't feel any different. But now, now there are shoes on the floor.

Now i took off my socks. I dont feel any different. But now it smells in here.

I hate this chair but i like it better than any other chair I've had this year. My last one was thrown out - but that's ok. I was leaving.

It's very difficult. Now what is my home? If i have a new place to live, is it home? How can i make it a home? It may never be a home.

Have i ever been at home?

Everyplace is home. I'm a hobo and a free spirit. You can hate me. i don't know why you want to.

I don't want to take off my pants. I have work to do. But I'm happy to see my flip flops are here in the floor. Most of my belongings are in boxes.

I lit some candles - After lighting them i had the urge to place them in a perimiter and tell the spirits that they can not enter and to visualise my body as a light that is strong and that bad energy cannot penetrate. But what's the use? I don't like that life any more. Now I'm just a useless dying rodent. I'm a product of being in society. I'm a punching bag. I chose to be. I have a long way to go before I can believe in God, and in the Earth and in Myself.

I really need to wach myself - my body, my clothes and my teeth and hair. I can't be dirtied by those that don't know me - those that put onto me the dirty garments - those why think they know me and who judge me. They make me dirty. They dirty my face. My clothes are essential to me - i have to choose - but they insist that i am something that is not apparent to them. They insist i am something that they expect and I am not that. I am something hidden. I am something sacred.

I can be destroyed. You can kill me. You aready have and I have chosen to be alive in spite of it. To be alive tho I am dead hurts me and it takes a lot of strength because they want me dead.

I'm trying to live again... I am not indeed trying in truth. I am not trying to live - I'm trying to wait to live.

What things should I put up with?

I have hatred. All things are turning red in that i have lost view of the subtleties and have only to hold onto fear. I'm afraid to die. I'm afraid to live. I was once a roman warrior and also stood beside the druids. now look at my clothes - what temptation is this? i am waiting to see. i speak in part madness.