boyle street community centre

i can't get them out of my mind. there they were hugging the doors, dancing on the streets in delirious stupor, staring at me like i didn't belong. and i didn't. it wasn't my turf but now i know it's there and i need to return. call it addicted to the needy. i'm needy too, i've got holes in my socks and heart and all i want to do is sit beside you and say nothing. somehow i know that bleeds Christ to you. somethow i know there's truth in pure communion. i cry out against crysal meth and all the ways it's playing with your facilities and i wish i could heal you. and i get angry at your choices and wish you had better families better homes better lives so it didn't come down to crystalizing your feelings and hardening your hearts and then dying. i want to help you. is that condescending? maybe you can help me. but i know you can't do life on your own. let me take your hand and introduce you to my youth worker, my personal friend, who knows how to take away your pain forever. it won't cost you anything. he's already paid.