Internal shackles

Snow and candlelight

Darkness drips down the walls
like snow over the warmth
of candlelight.
In hiding I watch it
through a sepia lens.
Everything is the same
while everything else is different.
Voices and sounds curiously muffle
beside the mundane shadows
of familiarity.
I pierce the cornered lamp
with a glance
and my surroundings
abruptly shift
to a sour gray.
My jaw fatigues
so with a tense breath
I relax my verbal grasp
on these stifled words
and close my eyes.

Rewritten story.

More than fine

Subsist

Meh.

Starting over

Sinner Soda

So i don't have anything super fancy to write about right now. However, i was of course at Starbucks today for a few hours as i often am, and i was just writing (again as i often am) and i was thinking about this war that we are constantly fighting between our flesh and our spirit. Honestly it sucks fighting it day in and day out. I thought i was weird for awhile when some days i would want to live for Christ and other days i just wanted to drink my feelings away. The inconsistency drives me nuts. But it's a battle we are all fighting every day. Some hide it better than others. But we are all living with that uneasiness. Like the mixing of water and oil are our soul with our flesh. We can't glorify both sides. We have to pick one and fight with everything in us.

I was also thinking about why i keep going back to old coping mechanisms. It's a disgusting cycle of temporary relief which leaves me feeling emptier than before. But it actually made me think of soda. No matter what anyone says, soda is crap. It's awful for you, because of the sugar (or fake sugar which is equally unhealthy for the "diet" coke drinkers), the caffeine and well, the acid you are putting into your body. Don't get me wrong, i love soda, but anytime i drink it when i am thirsty it only satisfies me for a short bit. And then I'm thirstier than i was before. So i shot myself in the foot by the tasty immediate gratification. But this is exactly what the things of this earth do to us. The promise us relief, comfort, and fulfillment. Then they end up leaving us hollow, lonely, and thirsty for something of real worth and substance. Something we don't find in worldly passions and desires. Don't drink the sinner soda.

Break my <3

Hillsong- Hosanna

Just let go..

Red- let go

Scattering of components

Fight inside..

I wish you well

Hey unfaithful

You wouldn't need a word..

Limited by words

Our thoughts are weak
and shallow.
Limited by the words
we desperately search for
trying to trace an outline
of the map that will guide us.
These letters scatter
like sawdust in a breeze.
No hope for recollection.
We compose with our emotions
through the notes of our actions
on the hybrid of
a typewriter and a piano.
The intensity of what lies
within us
is too overwhelming
to make eye contact.
So we fight the ghost
we cannot see
with weapons we
desperately try to understand.
We are lost within ourselves
so we try to be found
within others,
searching for words
to explain the definition
of what is unknown
inside us.

Faith might mean..

Dear book,

Raw.. Broken.

Raw.. That’s an interesting word.. I honestly think of meat. Raw meat. Untreated. Taken in the state it came. To us it’s unusable without our own intervention of some sort of heating element and a few spices, ha. But, I think that's how I feel when I am at my lowest. I feel completely raw with nothing to hide behind and nothing to cover myself with. Bare, cold, and exposed. But we must go to God with a willingness to be raw, to expose ourselves for what we are with our flaws and imperfections and embrace our brokenness, because until we do that we will not truly take joy in that communion with the Holy Spirit. Not to say that God won’t use us, because I believe God uses us in spite of ourselves and where our heart is. But, that we will be shielding our hearts from experiencing the joy of God’s work with this black shawl of our fears and failures. We are insecure in our brokenness so we try to cover ourselves, and cover our exposed hearts because of our shame.

Just as Adam and Eve felt shame after they sinned because they were naked, we feel shameful about the state of our hearts and in an emotional or spiritual state we feel naked. So we clothe ourselves with the things of the world, the sinful fig leaves in our fallen world. We hide our hearts from not only each other but from our heavenly Father, even though He already sees us, and sees through our thin disguise. He knows we are broken and He knows we need Him. And it is in this state of being broken that He is so close to us. Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is near to the broken hearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” Our brokenness is not something to run from or be ashamed of. It’s something to embrace and place at Christ’s feet every day we make the choice to open up our eyes in the morning and live. 

Rooftop cigar

I look up
and i look out.
I feel so small,
so insignificant.
i lean against the yellow
of the wood which owns me.
My mouth burns and 
smoke escapes silently.
Like an uncontainable secret
it goes where it pleases.
This night is my home.
In the silence i scream
without the chore
of forcing myself to speak.


My screams require no sound.
They are beyond shallow senses.
I sit in a ball completely unseen
and in my camouflage i am free,
uninfluenced.
In my darkness
i reveal my light.
A light so unchaste
i can barely see
but bright enough
to guide my frozen feet
one step at a time.
Surviving each day.

Musical Suicide

Borderline.

On the edge.

Almost falling away.

Don't move.

Don't scream.

Don't cry.

Wordless descriptors

outline everything that falls

out of me. 

No judgment.

No right or wrong. 

Perfect imperfection.

Solo truth.

Only by grace

of passive courage

does it flow peacefully.

If only i could melt 

into the fire of this passion

and indulge in my 

cowardly truth.

Become one with a melody

and toss everything to the background.

A musical suicide

disintegrated 

in the flames of fiction. 

Seizing an artistic identity

while sacrificing all else. 

Compass

Lying Compass














Within the hour
my compass swivels
around and around
while i lay motionless,
audibly soundless.
I am deafened by
screeching lies
that batter my insides
into a churning slush.
Reality is relative.
Truth seems unkindly subjective.
True north bears no stability.
My emotions are a catalyst
to the speed of the spin.
Every moment is a game.
Fact or fiction?
Venom dances in my blood,
through my hands,
through my feet.
The delusions now
take the stage.
I carry this potent death
around with me.
Everyday, everywhere.
A curse of deadly predisposition.
This war is being fought inside of us,
not up or down.
Where He is means little.
Who He is matters most.