i am weary.
i am so sick of being weary
and so weary of being sick.

this sin of mine has blocked,
imprisoned,
killed me.

i am alive, but i am dead.
this sin of mine has killed
what makes me
me.

i find i have no clever remarks,
nothing worthy to say. i have been
reduced to an unoriginal, caged
animal.

i do what i hate. i am dying.
O God, save me!
Have mercy on me!
I desire mercy, not sacrifice.
Your words, not mine.

* * *

I find that sin in me is the death of me.
no longer just right and wrong, but a
darkness that will
do whatever it takes to
cover me, to
hide me, to
make me forget
who i am, to make
me just another patch
in a quilt of black.

where is the light?
show me what i am.
whether i am a conformist,
a plagiarist,
another lost soul.
show me how to be me.
to be original, to be who
i was created to be.
show me, that i may
change.

i want to live!
i want to love!
i want to play
my guitar!
whether i am
on key or off!
i want to feel
joy, depression,
loss, and hope.
i want to taste
the Son.
i want to smell
the earth.
i want to touch
the stars.
to see the things
unseen.
to hear and to
understand.
i want to hold, to
be held, to be let
go, to let go.
i want to be.

more

as you get older you have more responsibilities,
more freedom. you can do more.
stay out late, eat what you want, work, buy, exercise,
choose. smoke, drink, sex. all of the above.

more choices = more freedom

there is freedom in less.
there is freedom in not having to do
any of it. having the freedom to say no
i don't want to.

more freedom = harder to say no