Coral Hull: Prose: The City Of Detroit Is Inside Me: The Reward

I MACKENZIE KNIGHT I A CHILD OF WRATH A GOD OF LOVE I FALLEN ANGELS EXPOSED I

CORAL HULL: THE CITY OF DETROIT IS INSIDE ME
The Reward

I was also trapped within this city, for as I was saving it, it was consuming me. The city of Detriot grabbed me like a prison warden, and threw me behind its bars to work within its compound. Often I felt like it was merely exercising me in a small yard because it was paid to. I feared that it was so toxic that it would punish me rather than rewarding me for my good work, because it didn't know the difference any more and it didn't care. At any time it could chose to ruin or destroy me. The city appeared to view people such as myself with contempt. It saw everyone as guilty through its own guilty eyes. It was right in one way and that is that we were all going down on the one ship. It's hostile mask disguised its fear, whilst it secretly smouldered inside. Detroit was a city that displayed schizoid characteristics. It was like that time the bloke at the schizophrenic fellowship grabbed me pushed me up against a door. He squeezed my nose real hard with fingers that clasped on like pegs, bashing my head back against the door and shoving his enormous tongue suddenly down my throat. My arms flapped like wings of a poor large bird trying to get away. To others if must have looked like a giant psychotic vulture force feeding its young. By the time someone approached him to tap him on the shoulder, I could have been infected. He had moved away smiling, wiping his mouth on his sleeve with a large and wicked eye. Was he really schizophrenic? Was he bad, sad or mad? He would not join in the guitar sing-a-long or the art therapy classes. He was a clever pervert and talked about raping school girls all the long afternoon, on the floral cushions by the ping pong table, until they had to get a nurse to remove him. As he was taken away, his thin high-pitched squeal and his big tongue flailed around like a slug. I got a bad migraine headache and was taken off to the chiropractor. I kept spitting into the basin in the restroom and onto the cracks in the footpath. It was like I had swallowed a good large portion of his spit and just couldn't seem to spit it out. Each time my own spit built back up inside my mouth, it felt like his spit. It felt like diseased spit, sick with aids moving into my bloodstream. When they if I was all right I said, 'yep,' through fifty brick walls crashing into my forehead and a toy house being demolished. I said 'yep,' beneath filing cabinets toppling with their drawers opening, and walls collapsing down, as if huge steel tables were folding in. Pretty soon I was taken away to the chiropractors by the nurses, as I began to cry out for morphine. The Boy was warm enough to send this golden light across a field so that it went trembling in the grass. It was the same place where Gabby the black labrador ran off with my childhood dog Toby. In the vision Toby stood in front of me older than old forests. He just stood there all wooden and decrepit, until I thought where did he come from? I wondered if I had brought him back to say good-bye for a reason. I said, 'go to god now Toby. Go to god.' Gabby had grown golden angel's wings, that grew from either slide of her muscular back. She galloped up thick, black and sleek, bursting like mid summer bursts with light and heat. She acted in the way good foliage would draw in and replenish itself, with the yellow golden light that shone down through it onto the grass. Both dogs ran off together into the landscape like an impressionistic painting. Gabby was showing Toby the way. Now he lives across the river on the Canada side.

    

This website is part of my personal testimony that has been guided by The Holy Spirit and written in Jesus' name.

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