midnights voices

It is the little scorpion whose movement I always feel, and it penetrates my mind with its slow voice, and now I am approaching the announcement of midnight, for everything to stop for a short time, for minutes, or for hours. I do not know, or perhaps it is possible that time has stopped permanently due to a physical hole. Black, so that everything around me becomes more like the miracles of the prophets, or time travel in dimensions or parallel universes. When that accursed scorpion reaches midnight, time becomes completely silent as if it were the moment the last trumpet was blown, until the sounds begin to appear, and they rise slowly and insidiously. The worst sedatives can have the effect of silencing her, and in the first hour after midnight, I can feel the Lord next to me in the room. He is actually closer than the jugular vein that was torn after the narcotic substances clotted inside it. His pulse must be restored with surgical operations that can be amputated, and Before the scorpion reaches the second hour, the Lord leaves me quickly. I struggle with the monsters and demons whose chains have been torn on my own. It is the thirteenth test after a thousand or two thousand. I no longer remember the number of times and attempts, which I always did better, and I fall again, responding. The call of physical sin is filled with pleasure hormones. Messing with demons is really fun. Messing will throw me far outside the mercy of the Lord. Messing will make me attached to the greatest Satan, who does not burn with verses of the Bible. He will make me part of his war and bet with the Lord. And the third hour strikes. And this war reaches its climax, with Satan declaring himself a god over this dark universe. He is glorified by those who insulted all the heavenly sanctities. I can hear their voices as they curse the Lord and Christ as they destroy statues of the Virgin Mary, but the sound is mixed with another voice, the voice of a child. A little boy laughing hard. This child might have been me twenty years ago. I can remember this laugh. It was always when “my mother” came to pick me up from school at least an hour before the school day ended. The sounds of laughter coming from afar rose and continued for hours and continued with her. The sounds of memories, of which nothing remains now, other than some torn memorial pictures, of which no one has met these pictures anymore. Everyone has gone away with death, very far, even when the time comes when I sometimes hear the voices of the dead, they were not. Their voices are among those voices. They are always the voices of my dead stuck inside hell, which the Lord spoke about in all religions. And I know and believe that they are in the seventh level of heaven. I can feel that every day when they come to it in the depths of dreams, which It always ends with sleeping with some prostitutes who were able to approach or pass through here... from inside my life, which turned into a semblance of life after it was filled with noise until I could no longer hear anything, even if this thing was the voice of my sick mind... but What is this voice that started to appear among all this noise and the voices of the dead and the gates and the cries of angels and demons? It is not a scorpion at the last hour of the night. It is a stronger voice. I feel as if I hear the voice of the angel whom the Lord sent to bring me out of this accursed darkness. It is “my mother.” “She came to wake me up from the black darkness in which I was drowned. She came with the light that ignited the day to begin a new day, escaping from all the voices that I thought were the truth that I must accept, but they are nothing but the voices of my mind, they are nothing but the voices of midnight.