I used to go outside in the middle of the night to scream at god
Early-late like three in the morning when there was no one out but him and I and the moon that he’d try to hide behind and pretend he wasn’t there.
Until the neighbor’s lights came on and shortly before the cops arrived.
She would have to come outside and talk them out of taking me to jail.
Because my voice was gone and tears were in my eyes.
She’d say things like,
“He’s alright, he just had a bad day.”
“No, he hasn’t been drinking.”
The cops would let her bring me inside, where she would take me to bed and hold my head and even though she didn’t know or understand, She’d still tell me it was going to be alright.
But that was when she still loved me and god was still alive.

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