I: I am embarking on a treacherous journey through wilderness. The book I had in mind may do better as a poetic screenplay! A young man in the ups and downs to find his own in the military lifestyle, but never forgetting what his higher calling is. He falls from the church and is brought back in to the mix with a supernatural twist. Some events will be things I have experienced. I intend it to be riveting and modern with a great soundtrack. A transgression of one’s self, a fight for what is right, and a monumental last stand. “The Diary Of A Writer: The Last Book.”

II: Please forgive the jumble but certain pages will be here, but not a lot. It’ll be deep and some times very dark and cryptic.

God slipped in the back door tonight. “This was all wastelands” He says to me. My eyes closed and wander around studying the area in my eyelids that lets in the most light. A coursing feeling came about and I just startled up. Moving in my seat God washed a hand upon me. As I lean back in my computer chair. “This night is ending . The future is about to change take hold Francis. A well deserved stitch in time. You went and ate with rats. You tasted their oats and barley. The everyday litter and wet food  overflowing out of  garbage. To each his own, but their is a better way and you shall lead these “Every-day Warriors” to salvation. My focus, My commitment to this is not all for nothing. Everyday I help protect the waters and find myself in ranks. I serve for you, for, her, for mom, for dad, my family, I serve for all mankind residing on Earth. We need our basic freedoms back without having to worry about espionage. America is a great land. I will live and and hopefully die here, but If things come… What is there left to do? I’ll make it out of here. I am not quite sure about you. May you be self sufficient and may you crops grow plentiful when the day is to come.

I can feel him Father. HE IS HERE! Damage in my room. On my way back to the center I found a carcass ripped apart. The blood poured down the table and into a cup. The Devil drank. The white face of a pure man. Damn, the devil wears his skins tight. Still I see through you. O’ Mother Mary cradle your arms and take care of my will. In this basin I’ll learn the secrets and surely my hands burn. My calloused grip around the can of a beer. A frosty cap that I drank to kill you. I drink to forget you. Our promise. You shall here but you’ll hear but two words from me, “Bartender whiskey”. I’ll lay my book down for a second. Just let me adjust to the atmosphere. Put the record on and we can play. Lets just hope gravity catches us tomorrow.