Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Day 12

Into the hovels of the poor, Into the dark streets where the homeless groan, God speaks: "I've had enough, I'm on my way to heal the ache in the heart of the wretched,"
-Psalm 12:5

How long before you come and do this?
I can't handle my own pain and I don't know how you can handle the worlds...but please do. Don't forget us, don't forget me please. I need you Father, in this moment and for what time I have left here and for when I'm with you for eternity...please do not forget my name and forget me.

Insomniac

Floating although not awake,
stifled although not made.
Dreams of stuff yet made,
Clever rhymes made to feel aches.
It's safe to say the break will fade
until the light passes to night.

Words and their letters spell out in light
and poor metaphors.
Sleep deprived and driving through fog
light by deathly orange street lights.

It's safe to say it's all in shades of gray,
the words said cannot be taken as thus.
Every escaped breath can be taken as this,
look and see for yourself and don't be fooled.
Ye gods I'm so tired of feeling so freaking sick, of being ill and just the general mishmash of pain that is my body.

At least I'm in a reasonable good mood.