my mind is gone

Your mouth is moving, so we must be having a conversation.
There is a paper in front of me, so I must be reading.

What were we talking about? I just read the same paragraph three times.

Life is an insect that crawls into my head and squirms around until I can't think.

do you ever sleep, and will you let me?

I know you are there waiting for me.

I can't tell if it is me or you that is in the dark

you are still there waiting for me.

Frantically I run back, forth, too, fro. 

All while trying to pin down an exact definition of fro.

you are still there waiting for me,

and I'm scared to let go of the sound,

I'm scared to stop pouring out.

I might be empty, you might still be there

What will you pour in.

Will you pour more empty and let me drown.

scared of what is there where I cannot see.

you are still there waiting for me.

the tide falls

the tide falls

the melody grows old

and worm filled logs fall in the forest.

The steam rises as ghosts from the mold

and the tide falls

the tide falls,

pride is sitting like old ironsides with it's guns above the waterline.

the tide falls,

and pride is sitting like old ironsides with it's guns above the waterline.

the steam pulls away from the underpinnings 

shipwrecked love tries to save bitter pride.

shipwrecked love is bitter pried.

On the other side

COPYRIGHT 2008 WILLIAM S. MONROE

filled

oh dear God please,

give me your wisdom.

why is the door that I need to go through shut?

why is open door the wrong way.

why is the easiest path not the best?

why do I not have a burning desire to walk through the open doors.

thank you for the desire to burn down the closed doors.  or at least check to see if they are unlocked.  make me thirst for you.  make that which you have for me irresistible.   my fists are still clenched, help me bring them open before you.  open my hands that I might be emptied of myself.  filled.  give me rest in you.  do not forsake me, and let me demonstrate your power to this generation.  kill my stupid pride.  filled.

filled

the train of thought

(note: the following post may be depressing and/or disorienting) 

the train of thought turned into a stream once.  

then it slowed to a trickle.

the meter of life slowly drops down low enough to read it,

just in time to let me know what that means.

I am the worst of all men, but I don't believe it.

I believe it all too well, and it freezes me.

There is nothing I can do, my fists keep clenched,

and my, hard, head, keeps bending down to charge the line.

There is nothing I can do, and helpless carries more meaning than I can say.

Hands other than mine are reaching in and changing the workings

There is nothing I can do, and helpless carries more meaning than I can say.

Is there a point? or is this just one of those times that doesn't, and won't, make sense?  futility.  I'm better than anyone I know.  Now that I believe, but I shouldn't.  I'm better than anyone I know.  Now that is a lie.  dirty lie.  and helpless carries more meaning than I can say.  

There is only one thing that can make me sane again.  my head knows what that is.  

still playing catch up.  my family is broke.  thankful for hope.  

like a sunburnt goth I live in denial of everything hopeful in this world, but some of my greatest pain seems to reveal my greatest need.