nothing in the tank

hello friends,

Just wanted to let you know Father is scripting a death right now and it's all I seem to be able to think about. It's rather gruesome, at least from my view, and very very painful.

My only hope is there is a rebirth coming after this death. But for now all that consumes me is the pain of this death, which must come first.

A good friend some time back reminded me that trees are barren in winter. There is no fruit, no expectation of it, and that is how things are.

I am barren now. Have been for a long time.

This has led to a clash: on one hand the desire to pen things ebbing and brewing inside in the midst of this, on the other hand the desire to pull all the way back, retreat to the furthest recesses and die this death quietly and privately.

My heart is it's time to cave it completely until this is over.

I have long desired this season to be over.

I absolutely fucking hate it. Every day is a piercing to the marrow. Every day are multiple bludgeonings. Fists of circumstances which never seem to tire from pummeling. They're laser locked on my nose, and boy are they accurate. And fierce.

I'm tired.

I'm bruised, and I'm hurting. And I just feel like going off alone to face the rest of this, the end of this, however long.

Maybe I'm two and a half years into a forty year wilderness of desolation. So be it. Maybe it's twenty-three years.

And what should I read last week except "for Your sake we are put to death all the day long; we are regarded and counted as sheep for the slaughter".

This is difficult to digest. It's even more difficult to face and to live.

Yet it's not the end of the story.

I don't know when the next chapter will come about.

I only know that this current slaughter has become almost unbearable. It's not unbearable, but sure seems to teeter on the brink.

Kill me quickly, Father, if You will. Please hold me while I bleed. Please hold me until it sleeps.