I think fresh in chi-town

Embrace Love as a child,
for it spoils rather quickly,
outgrowing your straining grasp
like magnetic repulsions
pull harder, break away
you're reaching for the invisible,
for the thin air that you refuse
to breathe in.
It's all footsteps and bitter blisters,
a shallow path with your deep
impressions of agression.
So tear me up,
right in this blasphemed passion
Keep on growing down, down, down
to your unfeeling knees and
pray your synthetic prayers,

it's too late for a blessing now.

My exhausting thoughts

** I wrote this a few months back...

Where have I led myself astray? For, I am dying, withering away like a plant without sufficient sunlight. Suffering from the torment I have brought upon myself. My weak, novice self. Here, does my mind engage endlessly in insipid acts that inject directly into my veins lethal emotion, depressants of distasteful nature. Expelled are my heart's intentions, outruled are my joyous ambitions. Now, everything has lost its flavor, it's tang, it's reality.

This depresses me.

I seem to have condensed daily life into a game of Spades, hoping that by chance the ideal card is drawn, played to trump all of the others. Perhaps by clever disguise might I also fool my opposition, and conceal my true identity to benefit in my favor... for what are these "comrades", but only mere prey of the parasitic, only in this sick, twisted game.

Oh, how I have blindly victimized those around me. Even those whom I call friends have I involved in this corrupt reasoning... Why do I indulge myself in such materialistic circumstances? Why must I always be correct and rank myself by the standards of those around me? The mentality of this world, fixated into my head. This sickens me. Nauseates me.

This depresses me.

Like the destructive man, who has overlooked the enchanting beauty of nature, have I furthermore fallen short of faith. Everything has proven itself temporary, short-lived in my life, because I have short-lived everything in this life. Forgetful is my soul and distracted are mine eyes... Yet I linger on, in the temporary conditions of this world, dragging along in my corrosive, apathetic delay. It's as if my once burning passion has been deprived from me, pillaged from my helpless, defenseless village. Now, I have inadvertently fortified an unwanted barrier, creating a great schism between myself, and the concept of self acceptence. Thus, how is it that I call myself a follower of Christ, flawed with distinction to the ideal nature of being like Jesus?

This depresses me.

My exhausting thoughts manage to keep me awake, wasting time as this idle clock I have been living by dissipates and fades away. In prayers, in dreams do I seek refuge from these compelling forces that drug my heart, my mind. Thank God that their effects are only mortal.