Sometimes
I really wish that I could just ask God if I can come home now.

Why is there always a pit of despair in the back of my existence, always waiting for it to be quiet enough for me to remember it, to feel it, to acknowledge it's presence?

Why doesn't it matter how many times I heal, how many times I cry it out, talk it out, meditate it out, **** it out, drink it out, smoke it out, release it to God, to the devil, to ******* anyone who can just make the ******* agony disappear but it never actually goes anywhere?!?

It always comes back.

It's almost as if existence was the curse.
Is the curse.

A ******* prison planet of lies, delusions, poisons, distractions, and illusions.

It is so hard to feel like
I am constantly fighting against my nature.

Maybe death
Would bring true Life.

I am the Great Awakener.

I will bring you to your knees in humility.
I will show your shadow the light.
I speak truth.
I breathe truth, I bathe in the everlasting light of truth
and I will shatter your very fragile realities.

I will show you every reason
To stop the lies.
To yourself and others.

Wrap you inside a cocoon of transformation
and I will force you open, ready or not,
And spread your wings wide so that you can fly too.

Fly in your truth, in your light,
and we can show the world
the One and the way.

How torturous it is
To see the soul,
To know the soul,
But to also come to terms
With the human attached.

I am never loved
Safely.

There are always conditions upon conditions and expectations that never end.

And there is always at the end of every relationship and every friendship I've ever had,

"You're just too much."

Well ****** take yourself out of my life if you were too pathetic and weak to keep up.

Too scared of the booming thunder..
You cowards.

Pack your bags if you're not ready
To live in the wilderness
Of a mystic's heart
And let her rain beat down
Upon your bare naked skin.

Don't come to me expectating rainbows.

I am ******* darkness
With a fury buried so deep inside
From the constant rejections.

My grief and heartbreak
Have no qualms about
Striking you where you stand
With my raging lightning
And a scream that crackles
Against the sky.

He's so narcissistic
He can't even see how
Much damage he has done
Because his weak, petty soul
Would crumble under such
Sinful destruction.

It's a lot more fun to dream of

things that are impossible than it is

to think of things that are.