Gloryhole Swallow Faith Instant

It was in a cracked tile bathroom at a truck stop off Interstate 9. A place that smells of bleach, stale cigarettes, and desperation. A place where the lights flicker like a dying heartbeat.

At the gloryhole, there is no past. No future. No paycheck or pedigree. There is only the now . And in that now, I practice a radical, profane gospel: To swallow is to take the bitter, the salty, the shameful, and instead of spitting it back into the world… you absorb it. You make it part of you. You digest the ghost of it. gloryhole swallow faith

This isn't about the act. It’s about the . It was in a cracked tile bathroom at

You think faith is only found in stained glass and hymnals? Let me tell you where I found mine. At the gloryhole, there is no past

Because in that moment, I have to make a choice. Do I bite? Do I run? Do I weaponize my fear? Or do I receive ?

We spend our whole lives building walls. Drywall. Ego. Prejudice. Then we drill a single hole in them just to remind ourselves that we are not an island.