Good friends help you heal in feet instead of inches.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 10:11 PM UTC
THIS IS JESUS, KING OF THE JEWS, it read
The Lamb's sweet blood spilled all across the sand
The Morning Light, the Son of God now dead
Great holy shepherd slain by rome's demand.
And there entombed and guarded with great care
The savior lay for three immortal days,
While fishermen and doctors found despair,
He who conquers death, dread sin forays.
And on that easter morn the women found
Their teacher was no longer in the ground
"Why do you seek the living 'mong the dead?"
Sweet Jesus rose to life in dying's stead.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 1:23 PM UTC
Die publicly.
Be buried.
Stay buried.
*Rise, and defeat sin.
*only applies to the true Son
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 1:56 AM UTC
Parading through Jerus'lem's holy way
Two criminals and one redeemer king
Struggled through the horde, indignant fray
To hill of Skulls, their judgment for to bring.
The sand burned coarse as fire on bloodied skin,
As holy muscles strained to lift the tree,
But ev'n more weight added from our sin,
Upon the shoulders of the precious He. But as they reached pained blessed Calvary's peak,
And air eluded His life-giving lungs,
He lost his life with one great final shriek,
And perm'nent placed his name on watcher's tongues.
He drank the cup of wrath, and tore the veil,
So forever we'd delight in Good Friday's tale.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
My glasses got in the way.
They hit her right on the nose.
That's okay, at this point I wasn't seeing straight anyway.
The clock says it's 2:17. Sure. Whatever you feel like.
I just remember soft. We were both so exhausted at the end of the semester, it was late, everything was gentle.
We were on her bed. Don't judge me, it wasn't my choice. It already happened, so there's no point in interjecting now.
It wasn't very responsible. It wasn't even that great of a kiss. But it was sweet. It was pure and we both believed it at that moment.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC
Once in every man's life,
He should be brought to his knees by a beautiful woman.
She should level him. She should hypnotize him, and warp him with her wit beyond recognition. She should give him hope, and then break him.
She should enchant him with her charm. And then curse him with reality.
Her departure should rock him to his core. It should shock him. It should send him reeling for weeks and months after the fact. It should bring up insecurity he had no idea was there.
It should be a mandatory part of becoming a man. A rite of passage that shows him he has no rights to have. If he is broken, he will not break by his own volition. If she is cold, to another he will be warm. He will have no pride or defenses left. He will protect, he will pursue, and he will come to her rescue because he will know.
He will understand his own pain and never wish it upon another. Every man must be destroyed.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 12:40 AM UTC
To the English-speaking people of earth:
When you speak of new year's, do not mention resolutions.
We need to make up our **** minds about what we want: a beginning, or an end? How can something you just started be resolved already?
I know it's all in the wording, that it's YOUR resolve as a person we're talking about, but I think we're doing ourselves a disservice with this syntax.
I have no resolutions for this new year. My resolutions are gone, done with, vanished, they have already passed into the great and vast "past". You can have my resolutions.
As for me I'll hang onto my goals, my wishes, my aspirations for what this next cycle of days and weeks and months will bring.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
So much to process.
Process, process, process,
Process, process, process,
Process, process, process,
Until sleep switches off my endless conveyor belt of over-analyzation.
Tonight I'll precisely pick apart things that have no business being harnessed
Until perfect rest precludes my process-a-palooza.
**** this brain.
And **** the thoughts that float through it, wispy, adrift.
Aimless, with no hope of reaching the other side, the action side.
I know exactly what's going to happen.
And yet, still, I will repeat this process.
The definition of insanity comes to mind.
Am I insane?
Those who do what they've always done will get what they've always gotten.
So some frustration is coming down the pipeline, undoubtedly.
But here I am.
Keeping myself awake while my little mind powers through minutes and seconds and hours of data
Burning itself out completely
And yet accomplishing nothing.
Moral of the story?
To overthink is to run a car for hours with no one driving it,
To study vigorously and then not take the test,
To hedge your bets,
To run on a treadmill,
To fight an uphill battle,
To enter into a no-win scenario on purpose.
To analyze too much is to work the muscles of your sanity to the point of tearing. **** it, **** it all. This crucible of introspection, I hate it.
It's all thinking, and no doing.
What kind of world would we have built on thought? Deceptive, static and imprisoned thought, in and of itself?
The procession marches on through the early morning hours,
Until sleep rescues me from this malicious rabble of thoughts
I cringe at their noise, I grow weak from the weight of such an immense amount of perception
My mind shifts and sifts through it all
Until I finally lose consciousness.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 2:20 AM UTC
Whatever God created one like me?
One filled with such a stunning yearn
To be lauded so bountifully
To have the praise I feel I've earned
And yet what deceitful praise be this?
This medal, prize, or boon I seek?
Life's great champion gets a kiss
At his stage's end, upon his cheek
Life's not worth living, lest I receive
The title I think rightfully mine
From it I truly feel bereaved
My great pursuit, my silver line
But to what end will I yet place?
My worth on such a goal as this
This victory I've given all to chase
I fear that it does not exist
Outside my mind there's no such thing
As being "first" or "better" than
These people I've been slandering
For ego's sake, my fellow man
What will become of the narcissist?
And of the competitor at that?
My flaws make a prodigious list
My pride is huge, my doubt is fat
The only cure is to accept
Perfection is an imperfect aim
I'm smart to think that I'm inept
And that for me, to lose is gain
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC
I cannot help but know you're there
I see you like I see the air
A force that yea eludes my sight
A pow'r that knows no end of might
Though fire and water cause me strife
I know the wind will give me life
I trust in it to fill my lungs
And so for e'er and e'er my tongue
Will sing no greater truths than these
That you are God,
And I must breathe.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC