My ******* neck hurts.
There’s a collar around it.
And tied to that elastic collar is a huge *** chain.
I don’t grip the chain, it belongs to someone much stronger than me.
And they love the way it feels in their hands.
They love the feel of the cold metal against their scaly dry skin.
And they have no intention of letting it go.
So I crawl around these putrid floors near their feet.
I feel the freedom of the 10 yard chain for a liberating 5 seconds until suddenly my neck is overtaken by the squeezing and constricting that reminds me of the consequences of my actions.
So I crawl back towards his feet.
The blood rushing in and out of the valves in my heart as if there was a fire in my veins,
And my lungs desperately contracting and expanding to keep up with my pulse.
And he smiles.
With every rotten tooth in his mouth.
And he says,
“Haven’t you learned to stay within the boundaries I’ve made for you?”
So I recoil, and lay by his feet, unable to be free.
He is the master. And I’m his ******* dog.

I am sick
The sky is green
My stomach turns inside out
Your words are yellow
I can't avoid them
My skin is orange
My eyes are black
Black like I'm wearing shades but I'm not
It's black like a rotting banana that's leaving a smell
Attracting attention
I'm chain smoking through days
Not liking the taste
Coughing up deconstruction
Collapsed stomach and lungs
I'm sick because
I'm unravelling like a golden thread
Like a tent full of birds
Until there's nothing but purple left
Hands wave from a train I need to be on
To stain me velvet red
To mix me yellow
And to dye me brown
Like they want to plant a garden in my fingertips
And write a novel on my skin
About strangers and fumbling for wrists to hold like the world is empty
Hands that make you fall from your graces
About walking into a bar and finding God
About sunshine falling from the gaps between teeth

You are like shards
Of broken glass
That I am still picking out of my skin.

Everytime I think you're gone,
I shift a little
And feel more pieces of you
Working their way in.

It is not great men who change the world, but weak men in the hands of a great God...

Oswald Chambers