afraid of alone

The feeling of nothing is the addiction of nerves
fear and shame and hurt and pain are left alone
standing by on the shelf of forgotten things
how could I forget my daily does of heart numbing morphine?

What would become of me if I remembered how to make salty water?
Who forgot to tell me that being broken is stronger than stone?

What is this wall that has no door?
Maybe a dream...adrenaline's addicting
if I gaze deep enough into the floor
my beautiful gift, starts to bleed.
Falling apart...not torn it seems
I'm burning alive, can you redeem me?
Can you free me from the icy stains
of hate and rage that go untamed.

So I give you tears and all my fears
I give you disease and beg for a cure
I give you the stale heart that barely breathes
bring it to life and let it scream
I give you drugs that flow through streams
of veins that lead to the lake where my soul drowns unseen
grant the moments to bring out tears
bring back feeling I've buried in years
kill the numb that's stalking me
and break the binding chains of hands and feet
bring me to life before I turn thirty three
take my cross that they make me carry
if time alone keeps me away
let me feel the cold red stains

break me down and let me feel
feeling brings meaning to my habit that breathes
grant me the bone chill that spreads through a spine
afraid of alone and about to die...oh my God let me cry.

the real poison

(he) has already shown his defeat, but he will not die. I can look in his eyes and he knows he'll burn, but there is no sign of breaking in his eyes. he knows he can still put up a fight, but never win in the end.

Why does he kick and scream as if he were hog tied around a stake? At his feet is a burning flame and, with a hard cross to his back, he cannot shed a tear. Anger builds. Hatred for the hands of his murderers, even though there acts are just, flows from his veins. He will not give in. He cannot admit defeat. In his heart, he tells himself he is a martyr. He has sold himself the lie that he is standing for what he has made himself believe is right, but knows is wrong. A martyr dies to save another. But he will die to save nothing...no one...not even himself.

The fire rises up his legs...burning his flesh down to the bone. His screams are not for help...they're hate-filled. He still won't let go. Every chance...every offer...he has had every way out, but took none. He yells his defiance and in his eyes...his eyes are the narrow door to his soul. They will not show pain...they do not show guilt. They cannot show sadness or even whisper a hint that he understands. The worst part is that he knows all he does is masking the amazing creation that God created inside the soul he has taken over. For the soul to truly live, he must die.

His body is black and his skin is gone. Ashes of his flesh fall to the ground, but his bones still stand. All is burned except his eyes. Even in death his eyes do not show defeat. His dying thought was that he is still above God. And, though his body is gone...his soul remains. His soul has always known, but would never give in. he is nothing...he is pride.

keep me broken

- "here. paint me a picture. i don't have a brush...or paint for you to use, but i can give you this canvas that has already been painted on to work with...can you do it?"- "here. build me a house. i don't have tools...or wood...but here's the house across the street...can you make it work?"-"here. take this mirror. show me your reflection while i'm standing in front of it. please. i need to see you...but i won't get out of the way."-"here God. make me how you want me. i'm already built...set in my ways...full of dreams. i won't change and i want...i want...my dreams. not Yours. can you still use me?"ok. so i can't pull it off. i can't paint without a brush. i can't build without tools. a mirror only reflects what is directly in front of it. and how is God supposed to use me if i can't seem to get out of the way?i keep going around in this redundant cycle that leads back to the same place every time. it's frustrating. it's annoying. it's vicious. it won't give up. i try the same thing, over and over, wholeheartedly expecting a different ending...or maybe i just never noticed enough to care that where i'm going is nowhere. it's around and around. here...i'll show you.i start a new book. 3 chapters in...i'm on top of the world. its amazing. me. the one who didn't read a book his entire high school career is now reading something on his own free will. i blow me away. how about my life? i think i'll just plan it out. i'll do this...then i'll do more of this...thenmove on to that...and it'll get me there. perfect. i'm good. i did it.WOW. did you catch it? it all happens. all the time. but the one thing that triggers the hang up is the one that i keep failing to notice. "i did it". that's what starts the fall. i'm sitting on top of the world and just when it all figures itself out, i get this notion in my head that "i" put it all together. from here...the top of emotional status...the only place to go is down. tumbling and falling into what i knew was coming when i was climbing, but i didn't want to admit. i knew it, because it happens every time. but WHY?! why is it that when everything is so good...it never fails to get so bad in seconds? that as soon as i plan out this idealistic and amazing future for myself...i'm put right back into check?here's my thought. it's the lack of acknowledgement. the idea that it's all me and it's not until i'm shattered into a thousand peaces that i remember it's all Him. it is, it was, and it always will be. until i can pound into my human brain that i am, in fact, smaller then can even be comprehended...i'll keep being reminded of it. that even though i keep trying, it's not even for me to figure out. because i prayed "use me", i gave everything over to the One who created me. my plans. my dreams. my relationships. my love. how can He paint me if i already did? how can He build me if i already tried? i believe that anything God can paint will outshine my pathetic attempts. so keep me broken. when i'm broken i realize my mistakes and am humbled. i find myself at the feet of the Master wanting to be used for His glory. i realize my size and acknowledge His. When i'm broken i can be painted. when i'm broken i can be used. when i'm broken i can learn how to love. so i'm begging you. whatever you have to do...keep me broken.