Gospel 096 ~Doubt Drips And Floods Minds~

People crying for money, laughing at me, and I’m sure some Trump supporters are out of relief. Sometimes I feel like tearing up, but there is something else coming out of my eyes, and that’s fear of uncertainty. Doubt Drips And Floods Minds

Monday, October 6, 2020

Gospel 096 ~Doubt Drips And Floods Minds~

Hundred And Fifty-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I can afford to get medical care like Trump. I’ll never have to hear that humming in the house ever again (yes, it has returned). How about we finish our conversation before wrestling comes on. I’m about to start sounding like Georgina from the movie Get Out. I don’t have the plague, Madam Justice. My nose is acting kind of funny, that’s all. Damn, that humming ended, I don’t know when and has started back today. We’ll still be talking when it’s time for WWE.

Now, Madam Justice, you know how I talk about FEAR, but doubt is a relative. Hell, let’s talk about the Day Job’s humiliation. I tried hanging up those doggy sweaters, got scared, and left them. So yeah, the new guy put them up no problem, and I looked SIGH, STUPID. When I came back to the house, I was all in reading the latest novel, and knowing me, all I wanted to do was fall asleep. Not because it’s terrible, but that’s what I do? Am I tired? I have another word for it, Madam Justice. If anything, I’m damn lazy, slothful, good for nothing. What about my OCD over everything? Oh, I do mean everything. I had a plan this afternoon that got spoiled because some lady was outside Walmart, begging for money. Afterward, I’m sitting there doubting I have cash for ranch wings.

That’s why I’m sitting on the sofa, lying in bed, hell, staring at my phone in a parked car. It’s like floating, you know. Madam Justice, I can’t swim, and I literally can’t float in a pool. Only when I’m right here, in bed, or a zombie, I’m keeping my head above water just so. Every day I’m fighting like crazy and then wonder why I’m going mad with a straight face. I read about this torture, where a drop of water to the temple continuously will get that result. Yet I continue to sit or lie, and I keep breathing, but how much longer? I don’t mean to sound so dark. Notice what I’m not talking about… I have such a good joke, but no. I doubt my resolve, along with everything else in my life. Has the humming stopped, or have I stopped worrying about it right now?

Sweat, blood, tears, sloppy writing. Doubt Drips And Floods Minds.

I Will Have No Fear

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