Before my sin caused my suffering -
You built me a church;
Surrounded me with praying sisters
and gave me Your Word.
El Roi - mercy beyond mercy;
The goodness of my God.

Before madness engulfed me
You called me back to Your arms,
taught my heart a new rhythm
and my soul a new song.
El Shaddai - love beyond measure;
the goodness of my God.

Before I walked a step onto a ward,
You recycled my past;
Built with it understanding and hope,
turned darkness to light.
Jehovah Jireh - nothing is wasted with You;
the unfathomable goodness of my God.

For every pain - a comfort O Father.
For every joy - all thanks to Adonai.
I will follow You praising every day Jehovah Raah.
My every breath is for you Yahweh.

I part my lips to speak to find my mouth a desert place.
My parched palette, rough upon my tongue;
numb - struck dumb
by a depth and breadth beyond words.

But You, O Lord
You know my every thought.
You hear the hurt beat out at my heart.
You feel all I feel, but deeper still.

My God, who holds a jar of my tears;
a myriad of moments,
yet You can match dop for drop,
whilst keeping the whole world turning in the palm of your hand.

On my knees I come;
willing myself to be still.
I need only be still.
Still You hear my soul speak.

This poem casts a line from insomnia to morning
On the wind of a prayer that whatever bites, holds on.

See I have counted eleven score and ten,
with rainbow like curves of my neck -
contemptuous beasts leaping in formation
each bleating out a preach of vague platitudes;
A narrative for the night sky.

My hands clamour at keys for escape
until I tumble headfirst into a web so vast
it has ensnared the whole world wide -
millennials are living in-ter-net over in-the-world;
a new ultraviolence against humanity.

I beat my words into the screen until it breaks;
shattering scarlet emoticons like confetti
pouring over language as if it were a compliment.
My mind massages shapeless polypous thoughts
like tight constricted muscles aching for release.

3am casts these philosophies into horses,
whipping them into shape and speed
before the eyes of this statuesque ******.
This anxious wakefulness begs my manic self to dance;
suggestively ******* tickets to ride like cleavage.

Sleep is fast becoming a neglected former engagement;
as my mind trips over fallen heroes
wades through my favourite mistakes
in a wonderland unfolding faster than I can fall
while the world beyond my window remains dark.