fighting the right to write the right.

this love i shove to the back as
i attack my enemy. she
winces in pain as my insane tendencies become apparent.
the rare moments when i'm clear-headed
are actually dreaded by me-- i love chaos
and all that ensues. and the one who
usually picks up the tab is her- she has to suffer through it,
just do it and shut up as i rise up, hating and waiting for
my perfection to arrive.
and when it doesn't, i assume that i'm right already,
and that the steady beating of my own drum
is the one i should hear.

finding the voice of god is so hard,
it's my toughest challenge. satan fights and writes
so many lies on our hearts that through the darkness,
it's almost impossible to see the light.
nay, it is impossible.
falling is the only way we get back up.
ignoring is wrong, and so is fixation.
stasis is wrong, but so is movement.
she'd love me no matter what i do,
but that's only because i do what i do.
and she hates most of that too.
so, i don't know, it seems that god
allows the confusion to remain, the paradox to continue:
it's only by being stupid that i save her,
and it's only in the times that i don't appreciate her
that she's really trying.
goddamn this sin, this mad mad disease
that erupts in my brain, driving me insane
as it drives me through the rain, through the sand
and through the fog, until finally i reach the other side.

goddamn it all again, because
i can't wait.