there's so much in me that's ashamed.
a sudden shove to realization, truths uncovered, memories turned poison.
the ugliness of sin so unbearable you try to run, to find it being your feet.
the want. the need. the blurry lines.
the lack of skill. the craving for meaning.
the obligations and the sluggishness.
waking and sleeping and waking and sleeping.
trapped beneath.
someone, anyone, God, love, get me out!
shouting, realizing Time and whatever good lives in you is all you have to carry you.
a storm grasped in a fist but I'm not that strong.
I'm no poet, but I carry words in me like extra organs,
and right now I'm so sad I just want to document such poignancy.