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I heard them praying, holding the rosary beads to there heart as they watched the virgin Mary weep.

Red saline poured from her eyes as the scripture spouted from the priest's mouth at a un settling pace.



Just listening to the fire and brimstone made the bile rise to the back of my throat and burn it's way to my tongue.



(I really didn't need those taste buds anyway).



Still I sit down and hear the sermon, even though I never really listen.

I miss the days when church was fun, not just a place you go to get in good with God.



When the priest is done, I walk out without saying a word.

  I need to go to the store to buy a carton of Basics and later on tonight I will go to the club..

      (The kids can spend another night alone)

But don't worry, God will always forgive me on Sunday