I once bought a life size cut out of John Cena.
I have no idea why. It was 3am and I was drunk.
When it arrived my children were overjoyed and took lots of photographs of themselves doing
Tombstones
Swanton bombs
Stone Cold Stunners
Sweet Chin Music
RKOs
Razors
Piledrivers
Rock Bottoms and
Flying Elbows.
I didn't. I couldn't see him.

the hardest fight to win
is the one that is forever raging
an inch never taking

no man's land is your residence
you can only proceed with hesitance
as this battle your fighting is you against you
and its filled with dissonance

turbulent thoughts
eddy flows and countercurrent desires
your mind is afloat in a sea of indecision
waiting for a vision
of clarity
Where is my north star?
My guiding light
to help me on my mission
to make this decision

I keep wrestling with my ambition
and my desire for submission
to my guilty side
unobliging
not hiding
never shying
from the chance to take all my time
and burn it with relaxation

a win for the soul but a loss for the mind
why sleep now when I have the rest of time?
but never slowing will the dim the glowing
of the creative ember lighting the way
and you never want to see that day
when it fades away

so take your time, let your stress wash away
let the good times play
maybe even pray?

Life is there tomorrow
you are here today

Living in your car
you had nothing but yourself
no one there to love you
no one but yourself

You hide behind
a curtain of glass
every night before you
get in the ring

You break your bones for fun
they want to see your nose bleed
cuts and bruises all over your back
is what keeps them entertained
They pay good money for your show
though they always bet on your rivals
it's not enough to make a living
but it's not too little to **** you either

Bleached your hair again
cover up the grey
your daughter won't recognize you
you haven't seen her in days

You wake up in your car
you wish you could die
you limp to the gym
because you have a show tonight

You hide behind
bottled-up feelings
right before you
get in the ring
to die again and again
every night
to stay alive
and keep them entertained.

Kissed Faith good-bye,
Stepped into the night,
Met a man on his way
To the Forest.

Faith behind him,
Uncertainty before,
Wavering on his way,
Brown faltered on.

Such a cloud of witnesses
As to keep him from this path!
But then they met him,
One by one,
Catechist and Minister,
Deacon and Elder,
Murmuring and gibbering;
Wise fools wending their way
To meet him
In a clearing, deep.

Pink ribbons falling,
Snake-head pointing
Feet now stumbling,
Then running before
In a wind of curses.

Firelight red,
Congregants cowled, silent,
Save the voice of Faith,
The near-initiate.

"Faith, Faith!
Look to Heaven!"
Resist the wicked one."

Woods silent;
Devil, fiends, fire ... gone.
Only Goodman Brown
To stagger home.

Ironic morning sight:
Smiling faces of Salem town,
'Gainst downward gazing
Goodman Brown.

Religion is like wrestling when it was kayfabed
The kind of immersive storytelling that is A grade
We became trapped
In the Walls of Jericho
Separated on the map
From the fields of marigolds
Shinier things catch our eye
Like Goldust in the ring
Not of Mankind
But McMahon's kind
We start to see behind the Big Show
Until they introduce the Boogeyman
Manipulating until progress is slowed
All according to plan

Jake the Snake offers the apple to Eve
And into calamity we are cleaved
This was something I never agreed
But Christian pushes me to Edge
No room in discourse to hedge
Swanton bombs fall in cities
The Million Dollar Man cracks a smile
Unable to feel pity
The billions of bodies start to pile
And I haven't seen the Hart Foundation in a while

These ideas pin us down
And we can't kick out
We end up indifferently submitting
To the Big Boss Man
A legacy we're cementing
Like the Ku Klux ****

I'm from Kentucky
Where biology is taught in the context
Of where it fits in with Christianity's teachings
I wonder how many people this knowledge is reaching
When we're trapped in Wrestlemania
We cheer for the Undertaker's victory
Because we're constantly wrestling with demons
Transcendence is only something we can dream of

O darkest night, what are you for?
Sometimes to wrestle, sometimes to rest
But always to cling to Jesus more

Though senses are dulled, desires awaken
Aching grows stronger, inhibitions are taken
Less seeing, less hearing, more hunger, more longing
Answers are dimming while questions are thronging

More drilling, more filling
The canyons of my soul
More boring, more pouring
Himself into the hole
More stretching, more catching
Away my gasping breath
More tearing, more sharing
In the union of His death