We spend so much time editing ourselves,
correcting every little thing that displeases.
Even my poetry is revisited,
trying to pretty up all my diseases.
But I no longer want to appear "neat" or "tidy".
I want to show the world all the things I am hiding...

It is difficult to do the right things,
some times I would rather sin,
but then I remember
Who gave me new life again.

I lay in my bed too long when I wake,
trying to read my bible,
but like the disciples
I fall asleep...

I am too ******* myself, thinking I need to be perfect.
Other times I don't try hard enough,
out of fear that it isn't worth it.

I struggle to forgive, others and myself.
I struggle to realize only I can choose to not live
in hell

I want to restore relationships, but sometimes I fear it
hurts too much.
I am working on remembering
Who is my source of love.

My biggest admission, is that I try to control.
I want to tell God how to write the story,
thinking my words are some how better or more bold.
When in reality He is author of every single thing.
I am reminding myself I am lucky to even be written
into a single page.

Do you ever waste your time
Wondering why the bottle has dried
Where the love has gone
The final drops echoing
On and on

Gentle twinges of a defiant guitar
Long drives in an ancient car
Back home, where the ocean lies
Where you roam, the empire's flag flies

All things at once
The Sun, Moon, Stars, Sky
Each a drop in a tear I've cried
Cliched and ancillary
Silly and obtuse
Attempting to let it go
Though at times, it is no use

I like the fog,
I like that it blurs everything
in the distance,
and that it gives my thoughts
soft edges.
It lets me know the small space
around me
Like it is saying,
Don't look
at anything but the red break lights
ahead of you.
Let the world disappear into
streetlights