ever.

today i realized that i had made God far to small.

once again.

i had put him under what i saw my far stretching, never ending
problems.
i had let them tear let holes on my insides
and make a home in my flesh
just another dull ache of regret
but
Christ in me hope of glory......?

He knows me

He knows the BIGGER picture and He isnt as small
as i have suggested with my
state.
of.
mind.

no matter how yuck i am
He sees what he created

bout time i see that
so i can walk in it , through it
and give a finger to the
crap crap crappy
crap
that sin wants to infest in my blood

no thank you,

Christ's blood has washed me clean.

....

and then the colour leaked out of everything and we were left with a gray sort of inbetween. i offered you my skin but it didnt fit. so we sat, wishing we could take it all back, leave it all inside the facade we had built so carefully.
so no one would really see the torn bits of 'almost good enough' and the wayward past, littered with only brilliant moments, none that would sustain a life time.

as we sat, with our ugly truths and nylon lies, cutting deep into our flesh. i offered you the last promise i had, it was a promise to begin.
as the ocean spilled over the edges of the clouds, it washed the gray away. till nothing but a blinding blank was left
and a small bottle of ink by my hand with a nudge, like a whisper,

rewrite

when we were young

uh oh

what if
all those times
not filing away
and sorting
these words
and those dotted eyes
means that
one day
i will loose
the memory
that i swore would be burned
into my brain
for forever long

ugg lee

im glad i dont look
as ugly as i feel

i wonder how they see me.

sometimes i think i must see myself like this
because of the yuck stuff
under my skin
but
i remember Kanye saying that
" The prettiest people do the ugliest things "

im glad i dont look as ugly as i feel
wonder how you see me.

out thus

windy summers
with rain pelting down
its a day for covers
over my heart
over my head
over my torso

back

just link your finger with mine
i miss that
comfortable.

im caught off
because your reflection
looks like someone else.

just give me that half smile again
i miss the way
it makes my tummy feel.

i guess i cant ask for more
i let the change drop louder
i didnt choose you


guess i didnt choose anything at all.

the coffee smells good in the morning
but i wish i could still see your skin
and bones
and ink splattered arm

new zealand

get your ass there

now that im older

Sometimes all I want to be
is in that

cigarette handed

coffee wrecking

havoc

taking

one and only


day

come alive old soul
when the memory is weak and you keep forgetting
come alive old soul
remember the sunshine on healthier bones
(yet even dead bones can rise from their sleep)
come alive old soul
your maker made you for better rather than worse
come alive old soul
see the picture is wonderful even if not so perfect
come alive old soul
life's not as dark as they've led you to believe
come alive old soul
the battle is won lest you think otherwise
come alive old soul
you are not worn and torn as you think
come alive old soul
because the spirit is willing
even if the flesh is weak.

in

cafe

flags causing shadows
fooling me
they are humans
moving across
distant walls

jumpin in broken

a tearing of the heart tissue
is supposed to be fatal
but im jumping in broken

pains in your chest
that make you wonder
if
this. is. it
but im jumping in broken

when most of you screams
stop
you wonder if you should
crawl up and sleep
but im jumping in broken

because broken
is more fixed
than anything you could offer me

through the cracks
in my facade
you will see
perfect power
thats not of me

so
im
jumping
in
broken.

i wish my heart was breaking for something
less selfish
for the poor
for the broken
for the homeless
for the victims
instead my tears are selfish
and out of my own selfish heart

i write
because i think i might
be able to pen down
why i try to take flight
when all in all
its a fear

a clutch

when i think
my ink wont mean that much

because i cant scribble down
the promise on my tongue
and i cant scribble down
what i have become

the difference
is a distance
and the distance is so far
that the past is what it was once
and future is amongst
us

its becoming
its becoming
what was written then
so maybe my inspiration
is not longer written with a pen
its typed
deleted
back forth and fro
its on the digital mindset
but this mind set doth flow

and the air is heavy
with the creative
or
the
creator

so to do it justice.

i
write

at the moment

it is as they warned me
but i
thought i was immune

here i am
battling with this
sickness
trying to take me down

it wont
and i know that
but its hard

i need medicine

the world isnt comfortable like it once seemed

you never know the extent of ache one heart can give untill you feel it break and then imagine it lasting forever.

music

remember the 90s?