Habitual

Addiction – the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma (Dictionary. com)

The words never come. They get lost on the journey, somewhere in the pride.

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Knowing better but fearing the worst. Mouth closed and unfed. Body clothed but wasting away. Mind chaotic and unresponsive.

The worries fester. Not enough smiles to hide behind. The truth creeps closer. Reality settles.

Can’t take the denial or accept the truth. Can’t speak out.

Sweating. Dry mouth. Shivering. Nothing left. Take my last sober breath.

And relapse. 

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Departure

When you are in any situation and you feel like you can’t escape, be faithful and believe you can make it to the next level.
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Wandering around this cage. Barely living. Enraged by the lack of caring. Downplayed by my lack of experience. Uninformed and easily replaced. Loyalty isn’t regularly used in the vocabulary. No rolls more smoothly off the tongue.

No peace or silence. Ringing continues in my ears. Never ceasing. Never really listening. Only speaking that morphs into screaming that spins into words of profane context.

Weapons drawn but never used. Refuse to fall into the trap with the others, lost and abused.

My escape will come soon. Not now but don’t blink. While they’re still in this cage. I’ll be walking away. Barely breathing. But still in tact.

The Wait Staff…

If you get a chance take it. Don’t forsake it because if someone else gets it because you didn’t. It’s worse than failing because you’ll never know what could of been. Me

Reality’s bombardment.
The happiness drifts. The stress rises.

Only ankle deep so I could still walk away. But I don’t. I’ll just stay and see how high it rises for another day.

Dwindling at my 9-5 from 10-7. In and out. Unimportant but of high irrelevance.

Not really living but just breathing. Not really dreaming just sleeping. In my hermit stage, too afraid to show out and take a chance.

More afraid that my consistantly mundane every day may be taken away, than excited to reach the uncertain goals I’ve set into play.

Questioning.

What to do??? Or how should I say…??? Where to go??? Or is it safer to just stay???

Waiting for inspiration to speak. But apprehension sets in. What would I do if it tells me to go???

Hearing my life come closer I tried to stop listening. Can’t it wait for tomorrow or any other day.

Am I truly ready??? Or should I continue to run out of change???

Does it pay to see what’s out there??? Or is the familiar and comfort worth more to me???

If I know the world waits for no one, why am I expecting it to wait on me???

How long will the world stop spinning to let me figure out the answers to all my executive decisions???

That may be the only answer I know for certain. 

The world waits for no one, especially on a day like today. 

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The Definition of Fine Print

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Written words with such power; their presence lingers even after the ink dries.

Thoughts illuminated on a background of sheer white.

All that was unsaid, left on a ticking sheet ready to explode upon reading.

Written words with such passion;leaving remnants of faith, inspiration and invigorating change.

Daunting to the oppressor, threatening the psychological powers once held. While empowering the minds of the oppressed, their eyes swoon and their hearts are filled.

Written words motivate The Resistance.

Igniting an intellectual blaze only to be extinguished by social justice and equality.

Written words with such purity, exposing the truth to the masses in an eloquent brillance.

The truth of the greatness that could be.

The greatness exuded from silent strength, from sleepless nights, from incessant insistence that the humble, the meek and the downtrodden shall inherit due rewards.

With faith, conviction, ability and morality those written words are personified. Their meanings are magnified.

And The Movement is brought to life radiating an effervescent light onto all whom remain in the darkness.

Written words tell The Movement to stand, lift its hands and reach out to every living, breathing being and upon arrival begin to teach.

Watch as those written words keep multiplying. As the written words walk in great strides, off the pages and into the streets.

Then the work towards a better tomorrow for young and old, every background and skin tone will be greater than the battle we fight separately towards a future left dim and bleak.

A Moment of Words

It’s amazing what we write when we’re in the heat of the pain in a moment. I wrote this with so many mixed emotions and now that I’m re-reading it. I feel removed from that moment. But I’m still too prideful to go back to where these words came from.

You are a dirty coward and I hate you Sooo much right now. I can hardly breathe when I try to talk to you. I can’t look you in the face because I will only burst into tears.

I hate the way I’m reacting.

I wish I never met you. I wish I didn’t need your help. I wish I didn’t need your touch. I wish I were Sooo much stronger. I wish I could take back the last 2 years. I wish I had never met you.

I want to erase you from my life.

I can’t wait to move away from you and live my own life. I can’t wait to start anew, to start fresh without you. I can’t wait to be free of these tears, free of this heartache. Free of you.

I wish I could say all this to your face, but then, I’d only wish I hadn’t said it.

If only I didn’t love you. If only I didn’t believe you when you say you love me. Everything would be so much better. So much simpler.

I wouldn’t be so broken. I wouldn’t feel so alone. I wouldn’t be lying by myself wishing so badly to be next to you. Crying, on the floor, in the dark.

Summer Days: No Swimming Allowed

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And this time was the next time but it’s like the last time; it wasn’t meant to be. I put the emphasis on you, the work into us and we and all the responsibility on me. 

I guess the word is insanity, over and over again I try but this same outcome remains. But this time came with a new set of growing pains. I thought it was just a sprain but I was mistaken, it’s broken through and through. I won’t blame myself, I won’t point the figure at you; it’s just the risk that I took.

I’d say we but I can’t say about your investment, most of what you put in can be replaced, returned or wrapped up like new. So no worries about the next or the now because I already knew.

Once I said the pool was closed, I thought you might still sit under my shade for the summer… But it was just too hot for you to stay. When you could just hop in another, who am I to tell you to wait.

Just think before you eat, I don’t want anything to happen to you while you go into the deep. Even if the sign still says closed next summer, I may let you sit on the side and stick in your feet.

That’s if you still plan to visit the old neighborhood. Maybe you could stop by to see what’s new. If not it’s no big deal, that’s a part of the risk I took. It’s not like that’s the least I expected from you.

Natural Transformation

During my recent trip to Lexington, Kentucky, I participated in a day of non-media interrupted silence. Not a full 24 hours but enough time to slow down, open my eyes and see the natural and man-made brilliance around me.  To have the opportunity to observe this day of silence at the Lexington Theological Seminary campus made it even more wonderful.

Standing outside while the sun lightly kissed my exposed skin.

Running my sandaled, chipping citrus polished feet through the strong blades of Kentucky Bluegrass.

Sitting with my bags by my side, my pen in hand, my notebook in my lap; I begin to write.

Pondering days I once knew.

Days of summer sun, freshly cut green grass, that I watched my Dad mow and cater to.

Days of digging in the dirt of my Ma’s vegetable garden, learning how seeds grew and flowers blossomed.

So intrigued and curious to learn about the world in all its detail.

As I sit with bags by my side, my pen in hand and notebook in my lap, writing…

Noticing the ants crawl, hearing the birds chirp, feeling the chill of the morning breeze.

I see my Magnificent God. I hear God’s loving voice. I feel God’s tender touch.

I look at the world upon these gravel steps; I smile.

I watch, silently, as passersby speak warm regards from their cheerful voices. I speak quietly with only my bright smile & waving hands.

I sit with these bags beside me, with this pen in my hand and this notebook in my lap.

Realizing the “my’s” I’ve written aren’t necessary.

The city I see. The houses ahead of me. The Seminary next to me.          
The billowy white clouds and perfect blue sky above me.                              The gravel steps I sit upon.
The sun shining upon the soft pink colored flowers growing wildly amongst the black, steel hand rail are all God’s.

All our surroundings remind me we are together on this journey writing her story and His story.

Learning new lessons, walking new paths and sharing with new voices.

With our bags by our sides, our pens in hand, and our notebooks in our laps. We begin to write.

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