I sit here and hear the sounds of
the Angels call my name. I sit here and
hear the voice of our citizens call my name.
I sit here and hear those who talk about things which they did not want
to speak of before. I sit here and I
write an apology to a man face an officer who appeared as he did. I sit here and I write an apology to man who
faced prison time. I sit here and I
write to a man, to a city, to a county, to a state and to a nation who deserves
an apology for pointing a finger to the wrong individual. Yes, I did faced myself within the glass
which hold my reflection. The glass is
clear as the Clearasil which cleanses my face.
The names are similar where the names are different; yet, the faces are
the same where the faces are different.
The fingers are the same where the fingers are not the same; because,
the finger that holds the man or woman are different.
Each finger pointer is different
where each finger they point does something the same. Each hand holds a finger where each person
carries a fist; for, we were not born with for feet. We are still animals waiting in the fields
where cactus, palms and water grow. So,
as to what we choose to do with our fingers whether it be tearing at the meat
of our faces or tearing at the meat of another’s faces; we are still tearing at
the hide of the animal which bears a marking, whether it be on a finger or on
our faces where in the mirror these things are visible to everyone who either sits
or stands there either in front or behind, or who sit or stand there with us. Each finger and each face bears a markings
and as to whether how noticeable the markings are they are still markings of a
man or woman which makes us different in each other’s eyes as we peer into the
mirror. Where each mirror is held either
hung on a wall or lays on a slant, each mirror holds our images and
imaginations; each mirrors holds our trues and our lies and as to how we chose
to use these images are determined be our heads where our hands lay within
yours and where our hearts lay beating in our chest as to the anguish or
disgust we hold for each other.
Therefore, I must make an
adjustment as to whom I pointed a finger.
As time has moved forward so have the revelations as to who assaulted
and smothered me; only to find that more people were involved than I thought. There were those who recorded images of my
smothering, there were those who opened a VPN (Virtual Private Network), there
were those who opened an internet site and there were those who sat back and
masturbated while enjoying the erotic scene where laid a man who died by the
hands of an officer who failed to call the emergency service contact number
where if he did he may have been arrested along with the other man. The events are still true to nature the names
may have been changed so the Police Departments and Sheriff’s Stations could be
investigated from my previous postings where I sought help by a nation who
would listen where my cries for help fell on deaf ears of the men and women who
swore an oath to uphold the laws and duties which they so deserve.
The man I named as Jonathan
Wunschel is John Hamilton who is no longer an Officer-of-the-Law in the Rancho
Mirage Police Department. I fell victim
to name changes through a form of communication that is known as the PANDORA
Effect as I have written about in my previous writings.[i]
