Confession

I believe the fire is reserved for me
No way around it
It's hard to break free
From the terrible truth
That I'm not who I seem
And the life that I live is not all
Peaches and Cream,
But anger and lies
Both big and small
And cravings that contrast
My Heavenly call,
and there's no way for me
to accomplish it all:
To be faithful and gentle and truthful and calm
To be kind and be generous and patient and strong.
And I sink with the pressure
that I feel from above.
So instead I confess it,
And hope for the best
that when it's all over
that I pass the test
And all of the worrying
And all of the striving
Was a very good effort
But unnecessary writhing
cause all that I needed was to confess with my lips
And believe with my heart that I'm a piece of shit
And that I needed a Savior who could clean up my mess
And that he would accept me and love me
And take care of the rest.
(Funny enough I know this to be untrue
because Jesus himself said,
"I don't know you.
If you don't do the things I say to do,
you're a stranger to me,
And I to you.")

Forever this way--
Anxious and afraid.
This is my new normal
This is my day to day.

Compulsion

It tears from my throat
like a hand with steel claws
is dragging my voice and my soul
out from my mouth.

There's no rest
from the clenching of my muscles,
like a spasm with no sign of relief.

My body is trapped-
painfully still
head tilted back
and mouth open wide.

"Holy holy holy
is the Lord God Almighty,"
never ceasing
never waning.

The only movement
is the flapping of my wings.
A reflex from the pain,
they tear through the air.

I'm not alone.
There are millions of us
lined up and down
this golden room

And at the center He sits
and watches
and its been this way
since forever
and will be this way
till forever more.