when homeless, I would try to score a place to do chin-ups.  the false prophet of my inner life ran parallel to god.  I was one side of a custody battle that involved my brother and with him the depression he called Christ because it came and went.  I met a woman convinced she’d become a gate.  not heaven’s ever and not hell’s anymore.  I stood watch while she slept.  no one counts, she was right, the dead made so in a dream.  likewise, if you want to get to my brother you’ll have to go through me.