Speak Ιησούς

Life is...fleeting away right now.

It's a mixture of the drugs...the loneliness...the dislocation and disconcerting feeling...I don't know where it is leading to.

I see beauty almost as well as I can hear it.

There are pictures in my mind, abstract thoughts I reach out to touch...just to find my hand is empty.

Every breath I take while walking down this road...I look for you and have no clue where I am, what things are...dear Ιησούς.

There are so many misinterpretations...so many fleeting and dying words...things that defy being and reason and justifiable existential cause.

Redundant life thought, bleeding, fornicating in existence with being.

The one thing being...this wasteland.
Oh wasteland, oh life.
This terrible thing I've clutched in my hand,
holding tight until it bled.
Blood mixing with sweat
and burning with hate.
God, what is this monster,
this facade I have become?

Behind me is death
and before is something I never knew.
When is it to late,
to late to say I'm sorry?
To be forgiveness for every sin
and the rot inside this soul?
The trepidation of a soul
forsaken truth.
If I am here
Jesus where are You?

I want to speak plain,
I want to sing
God I need to loose this life
and feel the cords cut
and the physical torn away
and eternity enveloping all.

I have no words to say
no verses to sing
and no truth to speak.

Every lie has grown in its own way.
All of my sin bears fruit,
burning and suffocating me
in this hellish garden,
marking my self righteous.

Where am I?
Where are You?

I want to cry,
I want to beg for peace
a new start,
some forgiveness
and a way of breaking out of this bond
and to become Yours.
Your Son, despite these mistakes.

I walk in the shoes of angels
that cower beneath Your Holy Rage
and I become so self reliant,
so forgetting
such a bastard child
when the realization is simple.

Truth is only You,
The Truth is only You.
I just beg for enough grace
to live these dying moments for You.
That I die not with a whimper,
but a shout,
Your name on my lips.

Enough of this false modesty,
humbleness reserved for serpents
and angels forgetting their place.
I never knew You
and claiming I carried Your love
is a joke making everyone laugh,
everyone except You.

And here I am,
raging and waging a one man war
against this dark
I'm just as a part of.
The simple lesson is the first
and the last,
that love reigns supreme
and I'm nothing but another misfit.
Another vagabond
taken in at the last moment.
Saved by fulfilled grace,
fulfilling broken promises
and giving me a mirror
to see the wretch called me.

No one who sees cares
and no one cares will see,
see the blood spent
and hours of breaking and forming
and falling apart on account of You

Every bleeding lie,
posing as a martyr
and what do we have left?
Lies that point to You.

Old friend of confused loneliness...you have returned...