I'm thoroughly convinced at this point that God communicates through numbers. That's not to say that the Divine does not communicate in other forms, but for me, the more I pay attention the more I see a pattern of intelligent signaling via numbers in my day to day experience. Maybe it's just the autist in me, though I do know that I am far from the first person to ever notice this phenomenon. There are quite a few interpretations of this numbers game, this bread crumb trail leading towards the Truth... but, like the Bible, I believe God is speaking to each person individually through this means, and that there isn't any master key that unlocks it all.. unless that key is faith. But it is a personal relationship with the Creator, knocking on the door in seeking God, the one on one (11) friendship and union with The Spirit, and the communion with others doing the same (11:11) that is the key that unlocks the door to the fullness of Love. This is the quickening of the synchronicities on the vibration of Love frequencies, the tuning of our antennae to God's, as the door opens and we can hear the Divine speaking to us much more clearly... and for me, the numbers start flowing, and I buzz and hum with this energy that transcends caffeine and greed, weightless almost in this state of Love that I desire always to be connected with, the Source of it... yet, often still, my shadow self, the denseness of me blocks this loving and living aqueous transmission, and I fall back in to the 3D world, fall out of the Love consciousness of Christ Consciousness, and it becomes all about "Me Me Me!" again... but I'm learning to recognize this spiritual plummet into the realm of the dead, and what I need to do in those times to find the path back to Her, as She helps me by leaving these bread crumbs... numbers to remind me that my Spirit is wildly free, that what is seen isn't all of reality, that there's more than being stuck in the perils of 3D, yet thinking so much differently... and so, I continue to unlearn me, seek out bakers for this trail of bread, praying prayers that stretch out towards Eternity, until once again my Spirit is the one that leads. 5:5

Existential lag slowly tunes in and I'm "awake", aware, astounded that I'm laying there while I look at me, because ******,  I should be dead again, and I'm not, and that's just the first thing I hate as I begin another cycle of light after another nightmarish craze... my body is heavy and sinking as it floats on top of my sheets, and I kick my covers off to avoid my own body heat because I hate myself that much... despising half-heartedly that I'm alive, with false memories of things that make me hate others as well, ever accumulating within my minds eye.. what's the ******* point of waking to a battle with my fate? I'll lose in time, even though it doesn't exist, so why persist? My resistence is futile, so I crawl out of my comfortable bed with guilt that I have a comfortable bed, and trudge my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth because I don't want anyone smelling the alcohol still residing within me, and I stare at the shower once more, know it will feel glorious, yet undeserved.. so I procrastinate, I withhold from me, everything except my insane need, and I drift further down my own rabbit hole to find out that it wasn't a rabbit at all, but a horrific beast holding ***** in front of me to coax me, and now I'm trapped again in the loop of uncertainty, is this the day I fall apart? Is this the day I no longer am functioning, and go on a binge where my soul disappears again into places unknown that resemble hell, at least I think.. maybe that's just an assumption, because it feels that way, so as I continue on with another day, I fight this gorilla on my neck, trying to burrow into my lizard brain as a trojan horse coup d'é·tat of my heart.. and if I give in I will disappear again as my loved ones weep, so I keep my eyes open in hopes this time I will win, though I doubt it... the cycle just repeats.

Look, I can see what you go through… No, I can’t feel it, but I can see it, and I empathize.. putting myself in your shoes. They hurt my feet, so I’ll get in my knees, and pray for God to make your road easier.

What is right and wrong? Relative to a situation? Or does it depend on how beautifully you sing the song.. Every story has two sides..

I enter into tunnel vision with each drop of wetness hitting the pavement sounding like a different note on a grand piano each key softly splashing and misting away into obvlivion the lucky ******* and I just sit here in my sin again until my friend saves me and digs me up from underneath whatever it is today that is covering me up whatever it so happens that I have had enough of to tip the scales of fate in favor of bubbling fizzing alcoholic waste and so I pace wondering what changed what gave my brain permission to become entagled with my heart because it certainly wasn't me or the essence of what is me or what character I pretend to be or what my ego thinkgs I would like to be and I love you this I know outside the group effort that tries to trick me that they're me and even they sometimes have to get on their knees on chorus of yes she is amazing but they always follow it up with a she's too good for the real me you really ought to just set her free and spare her misery and grief and thus therefore I have not talked to God very much lately and I'm struggling with my spirituality like all these things that I have attached myself to and held on to over the span of my lifetime has continuously been proven incomplete or false entirely and I'm green now because I'm jaded and I hate it because I feel as if my passion is dwindling at best in all aspects and it's frustrating and such a ******* mess emotionally and again I drink and it's not because of you it's me or maybe more accurately it is something that has been desperately trying to **** me the only problem is that I am not as weak as it thinks and when I have a best friend that is always at ringside with me I'm always in the battle and I will not quit I will not give up even when I'm in tremendous peril and the fact that I might be sterile is like a microcosm of my life in general where I want a family and a wife and kids more than anything yet the alcoholism makes me not the most eligable bachelor and of course socially sterile like a ***** in jerusalem I sing my hymn of loneliness wanting to connect with Him but feeling inaqequate in sin

there is a forever storm raging
with deadly lightning
and strong winds of change
and yes, it scares me
never leaving me the same
sometimes I dance in the excitement
I revel in the insane
time has a way of making me forget
those days when I don't get
to see you...
the touch of your skin becomes dim
until I feel you again
it's then I remember...
like an ocean it falls on me
your breath in my ear
your heartbeat
your laughter
your release of fear...
my body pressed up against yours
my fears washed up on some unknown shore
my insecurities rivaling yours
my faith surviving with ours
like a light in the darkness you wake me up
as I jostle you too
I can never ever get enough
of you..
all these rhymes are easy
and I want you to see
that no matter what goes wrong
you will always have me
I'll never go anywhere without you
even if the world somehow sets me free
I'll carry you with me
physically and emotionally
you will never leave my essence
you will always leave me *****, but...
you will never leave me incomplete.

Deep breath... Lord, give me the words to say to help rid me of this anxiety, I pray and pray, and I hope that someday my mind will lose itself, so that I may begin to become legitimately crazy instead of wondering if I am, and maybe then my happiness will begin.. what I'm trying to say is that I wish that I'd become ignorant to grasp bliss, though there is part of me that needs to be informed, that needs to understand my own existence, yet it's troubling, the world seems to be crumbling and I wonder where God is in all of this? I don't want to be angry anymore, I want to simply explore.. this garden we've been given is gorgeous, but a parking lot we seem to give back, and it's blasphemous.. so I close my eyes and pray, and again there are no words to say to Him and I lose my grip, this mustard seed is shrinking into the abyss... and so I pray and pray, tomorrow is not promised, not even today, yet I worry for the future, that maybe I somehow can suture the wounds my brethren and myself have cut down into Her skin, but it just feels like a bandaid on a severed artery, so I cling now to artistry and write poems with no purpose, no real direction, no real topic, merely reflection.. and I hope that someday these words will make a difference to somebody, anyone, even just one and then this time I spent would be worth it, a sort of desperate attempt to repent.. read my words and know that there are tears behind them, that I'm dying and okay with that, that I'm trying and will slay this dragon of my addiction, whether it's today or not I highly doubt it, just know that my death will be my knight in shining armor, coming to save me from this veiled disorder, order out of chaos.. as above so below? I see your souls..