Sunday, October 12, 2014

The Snozberries Taste Like Snozberries

9 days of thinking about nothing but *INSERT ADDICTION HERE*.

9 days...& like a desert, it wasn’t a 9 days completely deprived of water, or *ADDICTION*.
   Just, essentially so.
   Deprived, that is.
Of *you know*.

9 days & then it’s here & now it’s like it’s gone again.
   That may be the nature of my *?*.

Already secure in the knowledge that I’ve essentially hoarded enough * * so that my next **INSERT APPROPRIATE TERM MEANING TO USE ADDICTION *X* ** is not to become a concern.

Fix?
   No, I’m talking about food.
No! 
   I’m talking about going to Church.
   You see, I go to Church too often.

   My weakness is that I know it’s ridiculous, absurd, even retarded to believe in God & heaven & talking snakes & talking bushes & whatever else is supposed to talk that doesn’t actually talk & I’m supposed to hate Muslims & hmm I’m only just now realizing the snake-bush-sex-thing.

Fun, but seriously 6:15 AM, every morning, it’s the sickest compulsion you could imagine, driving to St. Agnes for weekday mass with between half a dozen & maybe a full two dozen, depending on the...
   ...depending on what exactly?
   Just now realizing that maybe the ones who show up at Church with me, that all of us, we might as well be at AA, what’s the difference?
   In the future there’ll just be one building for anyone who’s having trouble coping with anything.
   On the front of the building: * *.

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