So many panics, so many floods

Guilt and remorse, what-ifs and blood.

Should we have… could we have… why didn’t we…? The replay runs.

..wishing terribly that dark rust-red color was mud, only mud.



Today has been tearing

And pain;

Blood spilled,

Trails in the kitchen.

Fear and pain, sharp to be tamed

Anxious and selfish, now bereaved and blamed?

Have I done something terrible, is this guilt rightfully mine

Can I ever escape from this dread in time?

Already won

Pain, impatience

Futile wishes for perfection

Make me less, make me more

I’m sorry this pain cannot be ignored

Your grace is sufficient, make this less



I feel a wickedness tugging at me inside, a blinding breaking painful light

Will the shadows crawl away and die

Or will they break open and birth more night?

How can I win when I’m fighting sin?


You already did.


I am good for nothing else

Riddled with agony, an aching mess

Of cuts and gaping wounds, trauma and


Just threaded together, barely, by the strings of your grace.

Nobody can know me as You do, so I burn to know you

When the tidal wave of nothingness climbs its way into my lungs

There is nobody to give me breath except for you, King

You are the only reason I still sing


Let your grace soothe me

Let its awesome, terrible power tear down my misconceptions

Knock down every walled-up presupposition

I do not want to live in a bubble of pain

For fear of it popping and the oxygen outside knowing my name

Take me somewhere my heart cries out for you

Fill me with your power, oh God, and your truth.