I'm finding faith
Like a dot to dot
Or something else.
So I interrogate
And why they bend
Light as they do.
Is anything real?
So I will follow
Into the foundation
I will never know,
And create night
With eyelids and hope.
And I will see her
As more than
When I can trace
Peeling like scars
From from the center
I peak back out
At the dawn.
And i wish I
I could see everything
And follow the greed.
The truth is,
Because she looks good
In both outfits.
If only I could
Dapper as fuck
In my confusion.
Drop beneath the horizon.
But when it comes
You always squint
At the fucking sun.
I hope we are the normal people that they refer to. The ones who find each other no matter what. Throughout all of the life changes, preparing us for what's to come.
To love. Like we could've. But it wasn't the time then.
I hope the time is approaching, as I need you more than ever before. I beg that you still like me like you did back then. I couldn't bear the heartbreak I would feel if you got up and left. After countless nights of crying for you, pleading with the angels to bring you back to me. Please, stay. So I can too.
2 Samuel 18:5 - Betrayal (Bible Journal)
" And the king gave this command to Joab, Abishai, and Ittai: 'For my sake, deal gently with young Absalom.' And all the troops heard the king give this order to his commanders.
 'Enough of this nonsense,' Joab said. Then he took three daggers and plunged them into Absalom’s heart as he dangled, still alive, in the great tree (2 Samuel 18:5 NLT)."
David certainly dealt with betrayal throughout his life, from being the betrayer in his affair with Bathsheba, to being the betrayed when his son Absalom stole his throne, and also being betrayed by his right hand man Joab when he ignored David's request to spare his son Absalom. Hopefully we aren't hit with the same extremes of betrayal that David experienced, but we will feel betrayal at some point in our lives, whether we are hurt by someone we love and/or count on, or whether we mess up and break someone's trust through our actions. We are in good company when we remember Peter's betrayal of Jesus when he denied him three times, and the betrayal of Judas after being one of Jesus' disciples. Jesus understands the pain of betrayal and can help us process it if we ask Him, and like His disciple Peter, we can still be redeemed from being betrayers in the past if we repent and turn to Him going forward.
Thank You Lord for being relatable for the times we have been affected by betrayal, whether we were the victim or the villain. Please forgive me for any times that I have been the betrayer, and thank You for walking with me through past betrayals that happened to me. Please help me to be a man of my word that is true to those I interact with, and please show me how I can bless and minister to those that have been hurt by betrayals in their lives. In Jesus' name I pray, Amen.
I’m often reminded of you.
When I feel joy overwhelm me.
Joy I thought you were faking.
When joy reveals itself plainly.
When joy reveals itself through song.
When synths feel cinematic and manic
and make me want to morph my body into a star.
When I hear lamentations about our eventual fate
that still allow space for awe amid lingering angst
When I want to feel everything, everywhere, all at once
When I want to feel everyone I love.
When I am wondering where I learned how to care.
The Birth of the Universe
In the beginning, there were two lovers
locked in eternal embrace
and they dreamed of stars and super novas
alone in the dark of space.
The male pulled away in order to see
his lover in full view,
but as he gazed upon her beauty,
the winds of darkness blew,
and death with his pure lack of mercy
struck with deadly haste,
stealing the male’s ever-living soul,
leaving his body to waste.
The universal mother,
struck with maddening grief,
gave birth to all that is
a universe beyond belief
with planets, stars, comets, suns,
expanding out away,
with gods and spirits, angels and demons,
and lords of night and day.
All the dreams she and her lover dreamed
became real and new,
as there she stayed, an unmoving center
from which everything grew,
and as the mother watched with sorrow
as her children drifted out,
always moving further from her,
closer to death and doubt,
her sadness, guilt, grief and suffering
with death and darkness surrounding all
ever looming, ever waiting.
Forrest Gump said: Life is like a box of chocolates. But I'd argue it's a walnut: crack it open, and little useless shards fall out. Or maybe that's just what someone who has 'aftermath' says. I say that because at one point, the walnut was whole, and not broken, a bad analogy. There was a distinct before, and after.
Today I walked around my old college campus, the one I spectacularly dropped out of after one semester. I have a lot of somber thoughts about this experience. I went to the campus cafe and had a muffin and coffee and wrote down some thoughts on a napkin in blue ink. I prefer blue ink - on some documents, your signature is not official unless it's in blue ink; that's how you discern it was not forged, that's it's real. I am not forging these thoughts, this peculiar feeling of separateness.
I watch the college girls around me. One is staring at me. I like that, that I'm someone worth staring at. I don't question it. I do question the clothing choices - all parkas and mittens, zany hats and corduroy pants. And then I realize I'm judging them because I couldn't be them.
I dropped out, choosing mental illness over conventional quirkiness.
The girls fifteen years ago, when I went to this all-women's college, were horrible. They were mean, bulimic, and petty. I overheard one girl, when told I was to join a party later that evening, yelling - how could you invite Alison to this party? She's weird. I'll never forget her. She was my roommate.
Today, walking around the campus, I felt like I hadn't had the upper hand, the advantage. It wasn't just mental illness. No one understood the particular feeling of being disliked for who I felt I really was. For I had thought I was interesting back then, both for having a mental illness and not, but I most certainly wasn't. I was just eighteen. And young, and naive - so naive it makes me wonder that I lasted even one semester.
The 'aftermath' is what happens when you give up something that could have been great, and then spend a day fifteen years down the road admiring the girls you could have been; the infinite possibilities of them dressed up in winter clothes, but I just see straight through them to ghosts.
In fact, I wrote down "ghost" on my napkin, but that probably meant me.
This piece must be so boring to read. I feel boring just re-experiencing these emotions.
I wish I could wrap this up neatly. But these feeling just sit there, lame and intolerable to sit with.
I could connect this back to my walnut analogy, but who cares? When you crack open something not meant for you, it falls apart, sure. It sits in a million little pieces.
A million little sorry thoughts that add up to only one girl staring at you, and probably not for the reasons you think.
I come from a long line of rugged frontiersmen. Men who did whatever they had to in order to survive. Tough. Independent. Resilient.
For five generations, the unforgiving landscape of the Nevada desert has shaped our lives. The Wild West has been a major character in all of our stories, and no matter how hard we try to leave, each of us is called back to dance with the desert again. For me, that call came the summer after I turned eleven. I never could have predicted how my time in Nevada would shape the rest of my life, but I’m glad I got to spend a decade breathing in its untamed air.
There are few places that will foster a spirit of adventure like the absolute desolation of the high desert. Wide valleys bordered by rugged mountain ranges and covered by clear blue skies; and, once in a blue moon, a blanket of black clouds echoing with thunder.
Long, straight highways that cut their way through sagebrush-covered valleys and connect small town, to smaller town. No one around but you, God and the devil. That’s when you really get to know yourself.
There are no distractions out there. No one to compare yourself to. It’s in the desolation that you learn exactly who you are and what you’re made of. The desert will weigh and measure you, and if you can’t cut it, you’ll know. There is no hiding.
A Rocking Death
I never knew someone could be excited by the smell of shit, but here I was: ecstatic about it. My scythe glimmered in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. This was it, the final soul. Some idiot who decided to call himself the King of Rock and Roll.
I look down at the mortal below, who clearly thought this was a bad trip or a dream. They always did. Their world could never prepare them for something like this, even with all the religious books combined. I don't pity them though, most mortals are annoying anyway. I'm just doing my job.
"Potty training's over, get up unless you want to go out like Elvis." I chuckled lowly.
The mortal blinked, still in disbelief, and then looked at me with an incredulous expression. "Wait a minute, you're telling me that out of all the ways to die in this universe, I'm going out because you found me on the toilet? Seriously?"
I couldn't help but laugh, my bones rattling with amusement. No mortal has ever connected the dots that fast. "Well, you know what they say: When Death comes knocking, you gotta go!" I paused for dramatic effect, then added, "But don't worry, I promise to make your final moments memorable..."
The mortal's face contorted between confusion and resignation. "Great, just my luck. But, hey, can we make it quick and painless?"
I tapped my scythe thoughtfully, pretending to mull it over. "Hmm, quick and painless? Let me check my handbook." I pretended to flip through invisible pages before looking back up with a grin. "Ah, here it is! It says I can offer you a choice—classic beheading or spicy spontaneous combustion! What will it be for the king?"
Mr. Rock n Roll gaped at me, not expecting to be offered options for their demise. "Seriously? I get to choose?"
"Absolutely! It's your special day, after all," I quipped.
The mortal pondered for a moment, and then decided, "I guess I'll go with spontaneous combustion. Sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime experience." I noticed a glimmer in their eye.
"Excellent choice!" I said, raising my imaginary hat. "Let the fiery fun begin!"
With a wave of my bony hand, sparks flew from my fingertips and surrounded the mortal. They looked down at themselves, half expecting to burst into flames, but nothing happened. Instead, I had conjured up an adorable little firework show around them, with colorful explosions and tiny smoke rings. I guess in a way, it was a celebration for me too.
The mortal burst out laughing, watching the spectacle in amazement. "Well, this is not what I expected! If only I had my guitar."
"That's the spirit! Enjoy the fireworks, my friend. They're the hottest thing you'll see in this bathroom tonight!" I said with a chuckle.
As the last firework fizzled out, the mortal's laughter subsided, and they looked at me with newfound acceptance. "You know, Death, you may have a creepy exterior, but you're not so bad after all."
"Why, thank you! I do try to keep it light, you know, despite the whole 'grim reaper' thing," I replied, flashing a thumbs-up.
As they took their final breath, a sense of peace washed over the mortal's face. "Well, it's been an interesting ride. See you on the other side, Death."
"Looking forward to it! But take your time—I've got all eternity, after all," I winked.
And with that, the mortal's soul departed, leaving behind a faint sparkle in the air. I watched him go with a sense of fulfillment. Being the Grim Reaper wasn't always about doom and gloom; sometimes, you had to bring a little humor to the table—death—where the laughs and final acts intertwined in one bizarre dance of eternity.
I chuckled to myself, thinking of all the souls I had guided throughout the ages, each one with their unique quirks and personalities. Maybe being the Grim Reaper wasn't so bad after all; it was a never-ending comedy show, one soul at a time.
With a skip in my step (or as close to it as a skeleton could get), I vanished, ready to find my next soul-sucking adventure; and make it equally unforgettable.