sometimes

sometimes
i don't want to

don't want to go there
don't want to do the open-heart thing
to pause
selah
reflect
journal ...

it's just too much
there's too much stuff
too many foreboding rooms
dark places
scary places
places full of mirrors
and memories

places i live
in secret
detestable places
hidden
down cold spiraling staircases
unlit
dank
damp mossy places
where things slither
and hiss
and there's no sunlight
no music
no flowers or birds

just me
in my dark hours
scrambling
splashing about
in my own stuff

sometimes
i wonder
how jesus could love me
in all my stuff
my filth

my shoes caked with mud
eyes bloodshot
hands dripping blood
as i murder
in my heart
lie
to my soul
steal
slander
fornicate
idolize
blaspheme

....

who wants to go there
it's a nightmare
complete with all the trappings
trapping me
in my own horror
locking me in
killing the light
burning the house down
around me

sometimes i run

...

turn the volume way up
assail the senses
with sound
and colour
and scent
and slam that damned dark heavy cold door
that leads to me

escape
flee
run !

...

but i'll be back
sometime

with a new pair of shoes
and a candle

...