Sitting In The Dark

If I were to sit down and try to pray
I can’t really think of anything to say
No mistake, my mind is fraught with a million problems and thoughts
But I try to forget them, deny, and move on
But with them they take the most of my cares
I’m left empty hearted, a tireless subconscious characterized by despair
I keep this all quiet for the most part
Cuz complaining never changes the pain in my heart
I’m sick of hearing it
And I’m sure God is too
We both know it’s not gonna change
But we both know it’s not gonna go away
I can go down my list
Of trying to praise and ask for forgiveness
Thank God for hope after death
Lift up for others their vital requests
What a foolish child was I
I thought that prayers could really change a tide
And I know I ought to pray for a better attitude
But I really don’t fucking care, in an angry mood
And I’d so much rather fall into my angry tunes deep
And keep screaming in my violent soul ’til I fall asleep
I don’t feel like there’s any light left in me, like as a Christian- there ought to be
I can’t bring myself to pray what’s right or say “not my will, but Your will be done,” today
It just doesn’t compute with me, doesn’t get much past my ears
The concept of trusting God and giving Him my fears
There’s nothing I really want to say
But if I’m a Christian, aren’t I supposed to pray?
I just end up crying by myself
With no pity from me, or anyone else
And surely not God!
For how carnal is this
Relief that I desire
Fore Death’s final kiss


Thanks For Making Me Feel Welcome

Yes I’m aware that you disapprove of everything that I do

All of the things that are the most true to me
are the most inferior to you

Fuck you

You think you understand
Because you cried that one time- your head between your hands

You think you know the pain

You think you’ve felt the weight

But I don’t believe for a second
That you’re acquainted with the things I relay

I need not defend myself

what else can I say?

For I am the dark, evil one

No hope for my being saved

You’re so good with that bible in your hands
you must be one of God’s most favorite ones amidst all the lands

Fuck you

Fuck you

Fuck you

For alienating me once again

For every fucking thing I did that wasn’t quoting scripture
Like you had planned

This darkness in my soul

Is foreign and unknown to you

And I can’t tell who’s more wrong, or where Christ’s blood reconciles of the two

And I can’t tell whether I should be condemning myself,

or standing up against you.

The Rabbit Hole


You haven’t unraveled my chaotic mind
No matter how hard you try
Nor how I desire to unwind
As you think you understand what it is to lament and be in torment’s time

You think its a connection
But I’m so far away from this moment

My touch is a lie- THIS is a lie!

My blackened heart is so evil next to your soul
And now even further away than It ever was before
The agony tirelessly gnawing away at everything inside me
That perhaps you thought was worth something

I don’t know if I’m glad or not that you cant see
How dark, evil, and rotten has become all thats within me
I want to care
But I’m crippled and I’m angry
I don’t believe I’ll ever recover or
Come back from this
Unless we want to call tolerance “improvement”

There’s no pleasure here
Oh but I want there to
This is simply…
The next right thing I have to do
You think this is so deep and so real
And that my transparency has revealed my twisted sickness…
But darling, the rabbit holes goes so much deeper than this.

On God- when rhymes fail

There are no longer any of the good light hopeful parts of me that assured my soul of its salvation and unity with God
They have all passed away
Along with every sign of the God of my youth
Which all have gone in vain
What presence is with me but pain?
Theres Nothing here but heavy darkness
Will my eyes ever see hope again
Even if it be from a distance?
How can God say He’ll never leave
Yet His presence be so absent
His light no longer shining in the night
His voice less than the silence
And my heart so black and low as this?
Or perhaps He’s not here because He never was
That the fabricated joy of my youth’s pause was able to see signs and messages of God
In any old, inconsequential thing?
Did I imagine all of those feelings?
I didn’t use to believe much in chance
But now its all just that.
Everything that once looked as such potential for hope or a glorious series of events
Is now all plain, dark, human will and chance.
Just a leaf blowing about idly on the winds at the right,
or more likely the wrong, time.
All good things that I once saw as divine provision or providence from a loving, powerful, detail- oriented God… All of it fell through, fell away, and disintegrated before it could even come to fruition.
And it has continued to be so as the time has gone by, stealing every good thing away with it.
And who can retrieve Time or that which he takes?