There is no greater pain than the loss of one’s soul. Psychosis. Schizophrenia. Whatever. What I experienced seven years ago was more than mere mental illness. Mine was a spiritual baptism of fire that great prophets throughout time prophesied of. My dark night was not mental illness.
As the Holy Spirit washed the ignorance of my psyche clean and burned the chaff from how I was viewing life, I walked in misery, just wanting to die, from 125th Street in Harlem all the way downtown to the Upper East side, where I screamed ‘the end is near’ towards the windows of the rich above me. I tossed torn flip flops into a mesh-metal city garbage pail and walked barefoot until blood covered my feet .Eventually I made it to the Rambles; the gay cruise section of Central Park, where homosexuals go at night to release themselves, like gods who shed their pain upon humanity.
The entire town seemed like a giant whore house, to one, like me, with a lost mind. I had the balls to go cruising the rambles when I was ‘manic’. The days of pure lust and mania had ended though. No longer did sex matter.
I was having a vision and it was that of the end of time; yet city dwellers all around me, even in the bushes of the Rambles could not ‘see’ what it was that I saw that night with bloody feet, from walking the hard pavement more than fifty blocks, out of my mind, just trying to get it all to stop.
The racing thoughts.
So much worry. Endless dread.
Worry all the time.
No way to stop it.
It had a mind of its own, the worry.
It sounds mentally unhealthy to claim that “one was one with God,” but I do, no matter what was written in my chart from the psychiatric ward where I was held prisoner for well over a month.What happened to my mind when Shawn died was a fasting of sorts. I was transformed by my basic belief in God during such a trying time.
That is the only reason I am here to write about it. What I experienced would have been considered ‘demon possessed’ in New Testament Standards. Just look what I did– shoved a cell phone out of the hand of an innocent white woman who was in my way and getting on my nerves that day. Walking too slow. God was calling. New York is so cool. No arrest. The woman just screamed at me and called me a “Fucking Jerk”– still was time to save them before the demons got to them through those phones. What was it about those phones? I was convinced that they were transmitting intrusive thoughts into my heads with all their cell phones. I didn’t have one– was just crazy, walking barefoot on hot New York City pavement.
What was I doing anyway? Going out to a dance club two days after my lover died, looking for sex with total strangers? I thought it would take away my pain, but it was then that the demons came with the Holy Spirit sheltering me from the wrath being inflicted upon the body of a sexually tortured savior.
Is is no wonder to me now why Shawn haunted me from beyond– casuing me to lose my mind. The black stranger from the club who brought me to his house was my disciple. He had a roommate and wanted to share and I was cool with that.
They made me so hot inside. Couldn’t get enough of them. All night they took turns making love to me, just as Shawn once had. There were moments when I was most certain that he was back there with them– surely there were three. They all feel different. I kept thinking the men might be raping me, but I loved them too much for that, and they too were into me. They couldn’t make me bleed back there though. Couldn’t. Took too many in my day. That turned them on. Kept taking turns, fucking me.
Kept telling them to keep them up and take turns when one started getting tired. Guiding them like the lost sheep they were, into me. That drug? The salvation. God. The bloody feet. When I left that apartment I walked around for days, afraid to go home, ashamed of how I had dishonored my dead lover. They had a business card with a tiny wite baby printed next to a web site, for fans to particpate in future escapes if necessary. I wanted to go back to them and carried that card around for days, barefoot, wondering if indeed they got me pregnant. It felt like it. I didn’t want to eat. Just keep feeling their warm seeds inside of me.
Shoved it in his face.
He was dead but I wasn’t.
Still needed more dick.
Wasn’t going to spend eternity like this– a widow.