God is mute

What is this feeling?

It's the feeling that God is there, but doesn't care enough to save me.

I'm overcome by the need to destroy something beautiful to attain perfection. I want something beautiful inside me. My soul, once bright with hope, is now a black vacuum, sucking in more poison, breaking down my insides, tearing apart my organs one by one. I can't stop it. I can't get these thoughts out. Walking used to help. Helping used to help.

As I walk, I feel a sense of uneasiness, like the right side of my head is about to burst from the weight of too many spotted mornings, too many dark sunrises, too much anger and frustration, thinking I'm not going to live through the night.

Perpetually waiting for tomorrow, my soul is stagnant. My body becomes a cesspool of broken promises, lies, a breeding ground for bitterness, anger and hate. Jaded by power, circumstance and mistrust, I turn to old habits. Without the will to wake up, I walk through life with a chipped shoulder and broken spine. God help me.

I can't focus on now. I turn off and decide to wait, wait until tomorrow to switch on. Get these voices out of my head and these monkeys off my back. God help the man who helps me, for that man is a fool to promote catastrophe.

My friends said I could live for myself and I didn't believe them. I believed in myself and I was spit upon. I believed in them and I was slapped around. Left bloodied and constantly dying, I stopped believing, and my dreams crucified me.

Love no one and you won't get hurt.

I don't know if I really believe that. I'm not quite sure what I believe in anymore. Maybe God is listening, maybe he isn't. Either way, I need a sign. I need a break. If he's there, I need to see him.