Tell me what it’s like to survive. Picking through a bucket of change for all the nickels and dimes, because there’s no longer a quarter in sight.
Single cigarettes are what I’m after, because I’m smoking again.
Yes 8 years Newport free, but the stress will make one pick up old habits again…
It makes the anxiety subside; and if only for a moment, it calms the nervousness that resides.
Don’t judge me; I still try. To fight with the monsters that hide..
I could be hitting glass pipes, using men for a price: because the life I’ve been through can make the most proudest man turn to forms of abuse in vain attempts to carry them through.
Yet I still hold some morals real tight. Despite the pull, despite the flight or fight feelings that drive..
But the money is tempting, when you can get it so easy, best believe me. It’s just that my conscience would eat me, no matter how dire the needs be.
My depression is sneaky, comes and goes, has a mind of its own, no matter how cliche those words may seem.
And I’m often so constantly restless within; the kind that never subsides no matter how much one prays for it to finally relent.
Hungry for change, but my emotions are in full control again. They keep me stuck in these same cycles of pain, some call it rage; but it’s only those who’ve never personally experienced the ache.
All one can do is focus on eluding the day, waiting till it’s over, and then starting again.
People don’t get me, blamed for my derangement as if I’ve asked for all them. Always expected to cope like sane men.
I quit church, ”oh God, here she goes again.”
They fear I’ll slander them; don’t tarnish their image, even if your experience or feelings are sincere, though quite different.
But I’ll say it again! They can act so much like these worldly systems,with which we contend. But much like fish in water, you can’t get them to comprehend the definition of swim.
Comfort and materialism.
Indifferent and individualistic.
Focused on personal salvation and their most convenient contentments. I don’t mean all, but just pay close attention to their most earnest commitments.
Searching for certainty, heads in Bibles but not walking Gospels; when Jesus never said worship Him, but ”follow me”.
Singing songs of personal redemption week after week; while out in the community theres so much need.
They seem to be blinded by enlightenment, needing to know what is right only in their heads; rather than walking like the servants they were told to be.
Fueling the majority, who are much more successful than the streets around them, with coffee from over seas. They say its not riches they have; but the perspective is always different from those facing real poverty. But to those not financially burdened like you and me, to them riches is always more than what they need. Their eyes are bigger, there’s always more to achieve.
The streets around them are alive with the desperate, neglected, and rejected that breeds the violence. They can’t comprehend it though; turning cheeks. They won’t believe it.
They don’t like when I speak, they stay silent. Some say I’m an enemy, against the church; but I feel somewhere confident that it’s my own calling and assignment that I just haven’t perfected with tempered grace and mercy yet.
I see it as in the temple, with whip in hand. Kicking over all the merch for sale and hot coffee stands.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m always wrestling with my own conflicting ideas of what resentment is, and my own views of what Jesus really meant when He said…
I can’t help but point out though all the times Scripture has also shed, light on contradicting eccentric figures, that also pointed out where Gods own people were misled.
The church that cannot handle criticism; don’t need be, Illegitimate children; but surely like precious offspring there lies purpose in many words meant, not for slander, but rather reformation. But will they be able to handle it? Oh pride within! Don’t ask comforted men to change, it is to much for them.
I’m not perfect, nor is my word. But, like wise so be the church.
In dire need of seeing eyes and ears that hear. Don’t tell the world you love them, while not doing the work.
The Undoing of Me 