what are you jealous of exactly?

the dying flesh or the temporary feelings?

or is it the flighty opinions of other people?

do you wish you were someone else?

do you think God loves them more than you?

that would make Him a liar.

like any other addiction, it slowly kills you

your heroine flits through the blood in your chest

and bangs against your ribcage causing blood to fill in the lungs

and you cough, spit it out, and take it again

and again,

pretty soon it's all you know and all you think you need

despite the fact that you no longer recognize your face,

it's red and puffed up and makes a mask of shame

because you let it breathe for you

so your heart stops when it's not around.

so one day in a drunken stupor, you look over

and notice how much you are giving

while all the time there is a black hole sitting

on your couch devouring everything

and punishing you for what it decides you aren't giving it.

So it's enough and you rip out the IV

and it bleeds for a while, might I add,

not painlessly,

but you notice that you gasp for air while you're crying

and you can finally breathe again.

Burdens carried for each other

and laughter in the nighttime

a general agreement that everything is okay

when you're together

Think of one another

share those thoughts and

show kindness that way

what a beautiful thing to be on someone else's mind

Praying for each other

wanting the best of all blessings

true love is sacrifice of time and

commitment to the building up of something

Yoked together for the sake of one another,

no plans, no need to strategize

one comes upon the other in moments

meant only to share the best things in life together

and make everything a little easier.

His mind, a crucible

Forging truth in the fires of

dispassionate observation

unwavering willingness to experience

no dread, no fear, just a

wondering wandering mind

there was an agreement at the beginning

that nothing would hurt as bad

as the loneliness of this

perpetual moment

but along came Passion

and there, borne some desire for her

so there was set new movement

regarding nothing as highly

as the pleasure and excitement

that the body can feel

but through it all continuing collecting information

dichotomy and self-hatred

some comparison to perfection

and a growing burdensome addiction

the flames yet stoking themselves

even in moments alone,

a wild eyed search began to fill the self-dug hole

there was no treasure at the bottom, only mud,

and a soulless enjoyment became the norm

no memories were formed in this darkness

quiet, fitful sleep for years ensued

trapped in the bondage of her

seductive glances

absent from the body,

the mind in tact, hiding somewhere

and she toyed with him,

new growth in the garden of lust

dead flowers sprouting up and demanding to be watered

endlessly

and he still knew better

driving deeper and time goes on,

she has not changed in her beauty

though it is so much harder to find her

deals with the devil to keep her as close

as he could, chained him to her

and sweetly she ripped him apart,

stabbing uncontrollably

while passion and pleasure and TRUTH

battled in him

his shame destroyed his body from the inside out

and nothing created was worth the effort anymore

and so she handed him poison to drink

and it made him sleep even deeper

until once almost suddenly

while in a nightmare

a brightness burned and purged

somehow extending a hand

lovingly pulling him out through the

brambles and thorns

through layers of mud and regret

faster and farther, as he tried to resist

but the light cleanses without need for permission

because it despises her and loves him perfectly

still being pulled

he notices he's been lost here for as long as he lived

and still being pulled

this salvation, this gift

increases in its value

and she fades into the distance

(though those glances still attract,

she is beautiful afterall)

somehow his bleeding, dying body

is filled with new life

true life

light purging and death ending

life above all else

Thank God.

7 AM, woke up late

the next 10 minutes will decide my fate

I know that I won't get to work on time

but I'm rushing to get on the road.

Glasses aren't where I left them last night

and my keys are in the other room,

I'm brushing my teeth and ordering breakfast

the clock's ticking down to my doom.

Pants on, shirt buttoned

hands full with no lunch in them

I forgot to grab my phone again

so I run back inside, 7:05.

Back out

got everything

car's locked

keys in my pocket

hands full

drop my coffee

get in the car

covered in coffee

and it's Wednesday.

On your knees

with a shallow heart

and a head filled with distractions,

sing a song of uselessness

and mourn for your transgressions

a glimmer of hope

a rebellious spirit

and you're back to where you started again.

Close your eyes and try to feel it

force your understanding,

so that you can sense your "righteousness"

under the layers of dirt that piled on it

in a dark and private room

out of a sense of obligation

no praise, just questions

and a certain discontentedness

desiring nothing but desiring nothing

and waiting for it to happen

as if it were magic, and you could do nothing

about it.

And you think you understand God

yet you do not listen to him,

O hypocrite be warned,

your "discipline" has failed you

and brought you to the edge of madness

because you try to control yourself

Let God do it, just listen.

be obedient.

The TRUTH stands boldly

behind the thin veil of my unwillingness

and shines without hesitation

upon me the moment I decide to disown

my own intentional ignorance.

But the poisons I ingest

still must run their course

and be flushed from me

and in so doing they cling inside my memory

and often my eyes close due to pain,

for some reason that darkness is comforting

despite how it drains the warmth from me

until I am left again cold and shivering

with that thin veil blowing in a gentle breeze

and out of shame I turn away

from the bright light shining behind it

and everything I try just makes me colder

and the clouds of breath in the air become my soul,

it drifts away from me and dissolves in the darkness

which is all somehow an illusion

because all I have to do is peek timidly

just move the veil an inch

and it is burned up suddenly

and I am warm again

because the TRUTH is not dependent on how it is perceived

it is self-existent and does not need me to make it real

and I come to find that the desperation and pain

comes from a conflict in my soul

which knows that I constantly turn my face

from God.

A thousand souls crying out to God

and begging to be with him

wondering why they don't get the chance

to die and enter heaven.

They question God's love for them

and worry He doesn't hear them

unaware that even though we suffer

while we're living, through that we build the kingdom.

And yet another thousand seeking

escape from all this suffering

through too afraid to die because

faith's not a priority

and so they search and fill themselves

destroying mind and body

unaware that though they live,

the wrath they face is Holy.

A thousand souls so tired

but through that strength to fight

a love radiates off of them

and shines out in the night

reflecting perfection in millions of ways

overcoming depravity and primal hate

displaying a grace that can only be given

not found in the bowels of wretchedness.

One soul, and his name is Lost

wanders in between these things

desserting past pleasures and feeling his pain

but yearning for some release from his shame

in so doing he makes himself willfully blind

to the effect that escaping will have on his life

escaping the pain brings pain in itself

and depletes the soul of its willingness

so rather to suffer in slavery for righteousness

than suffer in bondage to die.

Present moment focused, having something to do with acceptance

and noticing that the fact I am breathing is enough to be grateful for

because patience is gratitude, in knowing that whatever comes

no matter how it looks, is something worth praising

we are built to suffer and worry and work

and to know that there is greatness above us that looks

down at the struggle and moves not an inch

because we are exactly where we're supposed to be.

It's hard to just sit there and take it sometimes

while the pressure to feel pleasure all the time overrides

what we know to be truth, which sits still, small and silent

behind the distracting cloud of excitement that somehow gets confused

with the love we were made for

because it feels good and is easy to access

but to have patience is to work on the quiet

still small voice that whispers in silence

and directs the soul toward the place that it came from

Holiness is not magical

sanctification is not some ambiguous thing

the process we take to unbind our soul

is a long journey that we're meant to take

and so onward walking forth through the mire

while the heavy laden feet continue to lift

and raise the burdened body back to the highest

that place from which we originate

where all the love comes from

and from whom shines down the light and warmth of

purpose.