The More People Pointed At Me In

I Couldn't Get That Same Feeling During The Day, With My Hands In Dirty Dish Water And The Hard Sun Showing Up The Dirtiness On The Roof Tops. And After A Time, Even At Night, The Feeling Of God Didn't Last.

But I Was Sure Of One Thing. If God Were A Father, With Children, That Cleanliness I Had Been Feeling Wasn't God.

Never Console Yourself Into Believing That The Terror Has Passed, For It Looms As Large And Evil Today As It Did In The Despicable Era Of Bedlam. But I Must Relate The Horrors As I Recall Them, In The Hope That Some Force For Mankind Might Be Moved To Relieve Forever The Unfortunate Creatures Who Are Still Imprisoned In The Back Wards Of Decaying Institutions.

I Used To Lie Between Cool, Clean Sheets At Night After I'd Had A Bath, After I Had Washed My Hair And Scrubbed My Knuckles And Finger-nails And Teeth. Then I Could Lie Quite Still In The Dark With My Face To The Window With The Trees In It, And Talk To God.

I Miss The Comfort In Being Sad.