Today I was angry.
Today I acted out.
Today I told a story to myself
and today I forgot to write it down.
I am lost inside this frame of mind
whose picture I can’t decipher.
Today I got bit by my own bitterness and it’s nothing quite so major as to say that it poisoned me but it sure felt like swallowing wormwood and sucking it in through my pores. It’s as if all the rebellion I wanted since I was in junior high suddenly all balled up inside my chest and sat there, waiting. And with each silly action I let a little bit of it out and just a little bit more. Please tell me if you can taste the blood on my hands because I killed a roomful of people in my head and used what was left to fill my pen and write it down against your mouth so maybe you’ll speak the words that I’ve forgotten to tell everyone else but an untitled document that will be posted up for no one to read.
I’m not attention seeking, I’m just tired of being ignored.
And your ideals make me sick. I wrote a song about you all and you’ll never get to hear it. I don’t believe in your ivory tower and you’re never gonna get rescued from the tower you built yourself because the defenses are too well placed. You’ll just end up alone again at the top of everything looking out and sighing, wondering what you have to do to get out of this alive (And then you’ll realize all along the answer is compromise but not the kind you’ll defer to. We call that desperation where I’m from). Well, let me tell you that it’s mighty foolish to me to believe that you will be saved by a man and believe in a philosophy that says woman should be able to save herself. I’m sorry, I don’t even know if that’s true but that’s what I heard and really, I’m just telling a story and so my disclaimer should have read before hand some of this is and some of this might be the truth. I don’t use names except my own and that seems to be just to curse it lately because I’m feeling like I’ve been stranded here inside my head all by myself and I am alone.
And I don’t believe anyone on this earth can save me.
It’s gotten so bad that I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I say and do what I think is right. I live and breathe to be myself only sometimes I don’t exactly what that looks like because I’ve been hiding it way too long. I have to resuscitate the pieces back from atrophy and hope they breathe again. I must have patience that, in time, they’ll knit themselves back together with the tips of my rib bones and I will bear the pain in that with gritted teeth behind my closed mouth because you don’t want to know what I’ve been thinking about. You don’t know how cute and funny it is to see the giant gaping chasm between what you say and what you do and how things ought to be. It’s so cute I can’t help but laugh from the lining of my guts and then puke up the whole mess only to consume it all again like I’m going to eat these words later.
A roomful of people that is only half full of the people who are supposed to be there worshipping the God they claim to believe in. Shouldn’t we seek both personal and corporate means of bowing down to the one we call Lord, Savior and King? That’s not what I see. Instead I see words on a screen while musicians try their best to affect the disinterested crowd who seems more put out by the fact they have to be there. I try my hardest to sing but the words won’t come. The words won’t come. The words won’t even push out from my diaphragm to put forth any effort because my heart can’t ratify these words as truth, not because they aren’t but because I am too focused on trying not to lose my nerve, grab my chair and throw it against the stage. There is this great fire growing inside me that knows what YHWH thinks of trite and shallow worship and that is all I see. Except maybe for the four guys in front of me with their arms up and I’m just so cynical that I wonder if they do it because they feel it or because they really do surrender.
I hate when it gets like this.
Nothing is good, nothing is fine. I feel like I’ll crawl out of my skin through my mouth just to escape. Unhinge my skull and scoop out whatever section is out of control and I’ll try my best to operate without it.
I am unhinged. I’ve grown used to that by now. So should you.