What Hurts the Most is Seeing the Thing You Want

What hurts the most is seeing the thing you want

And not feeling like the moment to grab it is at hand.

Some strange distance is between us…

The girl at the ____________ register

Myself.

Sure, I can talk to her about Yawning.

I can tell her about my theories on time.

What becomes difficult, however,

Is working up the nerve to flirt.

I don’t want to

Because the situation is wildly inappropriate.

I don’t like flirting.

I want a steady conversation.

 

As a youth, there were those I played with

And it just clicked.

Rare were those encounters,

Where I just clicked with someone else.

The play was fun…

They got me, I got them.

There was an ease of knowing them

Like I had known them my entire life.

All sincerely cliche lines,

But we still all know the feeling.

Precious it is, it’s how I met all of my best friends.

 

Why one of them wasn’t a woman;

There’s always been a strange fear of them for me.

A fear of obtaining them;—

I have that fear of getting to close to them

On the chance that they would find out what I was really like

And walk away.

 

But on rare moments, I could be just myself

And similarly find myself at ease with them.

I suppose I want conversation more than anything.

I want agreement, even if I’m dead wrong.

I want resistance on moral truths;—

Not intellectual ones.

I feel there is a strange chasm between me and the woman at the ____________.

Perhaps if we met at the book store.

Perhaps if we met anywhere but there.

But then again, I am quite unimpressive.

 

A woman wrote a poem about Echo and Narcissus.

I felt like Narcissus.

Perhaps I am becoming him…

However, I don’t like peering into the mirror

To look at myself. I am hideous.

Rather, I have been taught to love myself by therapy…

I would like the _____________ employee to unlearn me

Of all those tricks.

 

Therapy seems to colden and deaden you to the harsh realities of life.

It seems to put up walls,

It says, “Don’t trust anyone.”

And soon enough, you live, can wipe your own ass,

Can eat and live off of work.

Just, something is missing in life,

The more important part.

But I have the pressure of family

Telling me all life is about wiping myself.

Wiping my mouth, my butt, putting soap on my hands

And cleaning out the nether regions.

As if that is the only joy of life.

That, and doing labor I am not willing to do

To serve a purposed end of what exactly?

Did I forfeit my happy life from two crimes in youth?

If so, maybe I don’t want to take care of myself

If this writing cannot earn me enough to win bread.

 

So… I twirl about two desires

Being an author and being in love.

I want to be an author for the purpose of wiping myself.

I want to be in love for the purpose of having something beside

Hygiene to live for.

If you could understand my families indoctrination,

Life is all about cologne, toilet paper,

And eating. Pleasures to be derived

From the excess of bodily functions and their expressions.

Of course, I became angry at one of them in particular

When they said, “Let the TV raise your kids.”

It had never been their philosophy of life…

One of the things I appreciated most was how they nurtured me

And cared about me when nobody else seemed to.

But, life is all about liquids.

It’s all about dopamine.

Meanwhile I stand quite helpless

Not wanting my life to resemble it.

The girl behind the ____________ counter could have fixed it…

But, truthfully, was there a chance at bonding?

None whatsoever.

She had a job to do.

I had a job to do.

Anything extraneous beyond that

Would get her in trouble.

As, that exact life is what I despise.

We could have been soul mates

And the de facto laws of business

Kept us apart.

Somewhere, I’m looking for a life

Where you just meet the girl in your tribe

And fall in love with her because you don’t know any better,

Marry her, and then grow up and have children.

You’re never taught to covet beauty,

So even when someone more beautiful arrives

It’s not this immediate lust and gravitation.

You simply don’t know any better because there is no sexual desire

Except for the one person you found it with…

That woman you met in your village.

Yet, there were old maids then, too.

So, I have no surmise,

Except to say that I didn’t want to flirt

Because I felt a boundary.

When I find the right woman

I want there to be no boundaries.

Rather, if she shows up at two AM,

Or I do, we’ll be none the callous for sleep.

 

In laymen’s terms

I want a friend I can have sex with.

I think that’s what everyone desires in a mate

As there is nothing else in this life worth obtaining.

Success, glory, honor,—

It seems too much like wiping myself.

Rather, when I’m old,

Maybe my desire is for there to still be someone left to wipe me.

There is a Crushing Amount of Weight on Me

There is a crushing amount of weight on me

To think, “I had spent this whole time

“On something that hasn’t worked.”

I spent an entire lifetime trying to work at this art.

It has not earned me much.

 

Yesterday,

I realized that nobody is stealing from me.

Rather, nobody wants my work.

The hardest pressed thing in my heart

Is to find that my best isn’t good enough.

But, this is all I can do.

 

I feel like I’m trapped in a cage,

Where every time I try to leave it

I am shocked.

So, I am trained not to leave the cage.

I feel sad, and confused.

I feel slighted and cheated.

 

Did I prophesy for gain?

Every prophecy I’ve spoken

I have not earned money from.

I will not.

I do not prophesy for gain.

I do not believe I do.

 

Rather… I am tired and confused.

I am broken and undone.

I have looked for the first ripe fruit

As Micah says,

And behold, “Woe”.

When will I eat from my work?

Soon I hope.

Why will nobody liberate my work?

Why does none purchase it?

I do not know.

I feel like I am not a prophet.

I do not feel like a prophet.

Rather, if I waiver, it is because I know by saying

It does not establish.

No, the LORD establishes,

And if I speak, it does not happen.

Then it was not the LORD.

 

Men will into existence their success?

If wills were what gave us success,

Then I would be twice over a billionaire.

It is not will that gives success

But the honor and blessing of the LORD.

I do not doubt Him,

But rather doubt myself.

If I were to doubt,

It is better that I doubt myself.

 

My Revolution

My revolution is with words.

To hold the people we elect accountable.

If a gun is fired in my name,

I spit on you.

 

We need a revolution with words.

We need to wage it with our words

With our bombs and ammunition.

Not with insults, nor petty name calling.

Just with cold hard reason.

It works.

It can take the most hardened idiot

And make them a little wiser.

And an idiot made wiser is one less idiot.

 

I’m a believer in Green Day’s revolution,

Waged with words, not bombs or Gloria.

If I wanted anything, it would be this:

For the country to stop fighting among itself

And to realize that there are shady things happening underneath the surface.

 

I, like Warner Brothers,

Give your revolution in words, not bombs.

Because if we patriots are censored,

Then men die, and line up in piles high.

 

Literature is a purge of our aggression,

And a cry for peace.

No war was ever started by a fact.

Rather, it was the forbidding of hearing that fact,

And covering it up so the populations could laud it as heroic,

That is how every war was started.

In My Dreams of Forgiveness

In my dreams

I see two very different people.

I see myself.

And I see someone else.

 

The someone else

Breathes fire and flies

But everyone loves him.

They call him, “Super Boy.”

He makes love with every virgin.

He fights in every battle.

He is a killer—

I’ve seen it.

It is someone else’s life that I see.

 

Facing up to my past,

Being selfish toward my mother,

Being cruel,

I was not very nice.

Those were my sins, though.

Having to look at all the people I’ve wronged,

All of the animals,

And to see that some of them will never forgive me,

It is a hard feeling.

 

It is a hard feeling,

But it’s even harder

To see them love

And forgive

The monster but not me.

To call me a “Traitor”

When I saw her unconditionally love that other man.

It’s the quintessential truth of Christianity:

A repentant man is despised

While

A flagrant man is lauded.

 

But, those who really matter do

In fact,

Forgive.

The Taboo Topics

Homosexuality is a sin.

Sex outside of marriage is a sin.

Sodomy is a sin.

Sadomasochism is a sin.

All other religions except Christianity, are sins.

Debates are sin.

Strife is sin.

Envy is sin.

The American dream, is idolatry.

Entertainment is idolatry.

Idolatry is sin.

Gambling is sin.

Eating too much is not going to send you to hell… it will make you poor.

Being lazy is not going to send you to hell… it will make you poor.

Drinking alcohol beyond one serving, is a sin.

Bloody Knuckles, is a sin.

Being unkind to homosexuals, is a sin.

Being unkind to Transgenders, is a sin.

Telling someone they might go to hell, is not a sin.

Hating your brother, is a sin.

Back Talking your father, is a sin.

So with anyone who is older than you, back talking is a sin.

Correcting someone when they are putting themselves or others in danger, is not a sin.

Telling someone that their opinion is wrong, is not a sin.

Believing in Fairy Tales, Conspiracy Theories and being radical, is all sin.

Rebelling against your government—even if it’s Hitler’s Germany—is a sin.

Serving in the military, if you killed with the sword, you must die by the sword.

Serving as a County Corrections Officer, if you led into captivity, you must go captive.

Disobeying police, is a sin.

Disrespecting political officials, even ones we don’t like, is a sin.

Being politically active, and trying to persuade your government, is not a sin.

Trying to cause an insurrection, even against Rome, is a sin.

Failing to listen to someone—no matter how wrong—is a sin.

Speaking too much is a sin.

Believing that you have prospered yourself, is a sin. Even worth damnation.

Being cruel to the homeless, or thinking they deserve their lot, is a sin.

Thinking that you eat because you work, is a sin.

Going into debt, is a sin.

School is a sin, unless you have a reason to go that will edify the church.

Sex fantasies are sin.

Swearing is sin.

Pretending to kill someone make believe is a sin.

Making stories or essays to teach morals, is not a sin.

Enjoying things, is not a sin.

Having hobbies are not a sin.

Reading books to edify and get closer to God is not a sin.

But, it is a sin if these things are done for selfish reasons.

Listening to music is not a sin, unless it is being done for selfish reasons.

Being selfish, in any way, is a sin.

Hating, slandering, scoffing or being mean, is a sin.

Preaching to eat is a sin.

Prophesying to eat is a sin.

Manipulating people with religion to get what you want, is a sin.

 

Any sin you will go to hell for.

This isn’t by any means a comprehensive list.

Just a small taste of what you’ll be judged for.

 

And we don’t get Jesus just so we can continue in these sins.

At some point, it will all be whittled away,

Little by little, until you have none.

That is what God does in every Christian’s life.

You will not stand seeing it in yourself,

If you’ve had a true conversion.

The most flagrant homosexual,

Will by very hatred of the sin

Stop, even if it means ripping out her eyes.

Only by Christ’s power, through Prayer

Through fasting from each of these little things

Does a heart become untroubled

Does a conscience become unburdened

Does depression, anxiety, and heartache go away.

 

Do not think I give a sugar coated pill.