Slut for Jesus


I guess that’s me. Longing for your touch,

I didn’t know I could love this much

I crave your warm embrace

That smile upon your face.

To hear you breathe my name

I’ll never be the same.

I’m completely whipped it’s true.

So totally Into You.

But since you’re in everyone

I might as well have fun.

To the reader, it’s just a poem, don’t read too much into it. I love Jesus a lot and we have fun playing with words.

Satan Cracks Me Up


I’ve tuned into a Jesus Devotee this year. He’s taken over all of my social media, and the rest of my life. I got saved as a child but after a life of trials had come to the conclusion that we were probably all right.

Then all the stuff earlier this year (see blog)and now I’m a Jesus freak, so, whatever. Anyway, back to Satan. He doesn’t like me because I’m so into Jesus, even though I love Satan too, in some ways.

God and me love everyone. Anyway, the other day he started messing with my ears. Now they ring all the time.

He thinks he can make me forget to tell everyone that Satan exists only in your head. It is hard, and I can’t do it while writing this because I’m looking at a screen.

When I’m done being my head to write, I’m going to tell my brain to shut up and to quit being such a narcissist. Then I’m going to close my eyes and be my body and soul. You can too.

Let’s just get this out there.


Everyone loves you and so do I. But there is no jealousy.

Because You are Oxygen. But our bodies are not only Oxygen. They are also full of self and the good and bad that is everyone.

We are mini You’s. With god complexes. Masters of “our” universe, which is actually Your Youniverse.

And You gave us a Way out. A skin of humanity. For the Designer of the Youniverse.

You made Your Skin die. To rescue the game. You made us a place. There is no greater name.

Thank you Jesus. I love you God. Your Spirit is the air I breathe and the water I drink.

Funny: A bedtime story


 
He had never been popular. Tod was a normal looking kid who got average grades in his typical middle school. 

He wasn’t very athletic, nor one of those “bad boy” types who seemed to always be sneaking around with a cigarette or a girl.

The fact that girls seemed to go for guys like that, was almost enough to bring him back to the “girls are stupid” phase, except for her. Julie.

She had everything a 14 year old boy could long for and more. The only problem was that Julie was popular, aka blind to the rest of humanity, especially nobodies like him.

So Tod daydreamed about doing something amazing.

When the news segment was about a school shooting in Florida, he fantasized about being the kid who took the gunman down and saved the class.

If the weatherman mentioned the possibility of strong storms, he fantasized about leading Julie’s class out of a damaged school.

Even his dreams were about giving Julie the Heimleich maneuver or saving her from a distracted driver at the crosswalk.

He’d be the hero somehow. It felt like his destiny.

One year. 

In one year he’d gone from being unpopular to the most popular kid in school, and now, here he was reading a note from Julie, and she’s calling him her hero.

One year of tests, diagnoses, medications and hospitals was all it took to be a hero. Well, that and his life. 

He’d never imagined dying in a hospital bed before he turned 16, but he could feel it coming. Funny, he thought to himself.

Shh…


  

I know you’re scared,

You don’t know what to think.

What to do.

I don’t either.

I do know it will be okay.

You are strong. 

The only thing that is real

Is now.

This moment where we are traveling through cyberspace.

Meeting eachother. 

Right here.

Right now.

I’ve traveled the dimensions of time and space.

To meet you.

To hug you in a weird way

And to tell you 

It will be okay.

Just Stop


  

Stop playing me.

Stop using me.

Stop toying with me. 

Stop taking advantage of me.

Stop hurting me.

Stop destroying me and then reviving me so you can destroy me again.

I’m so tired of it.

Tired of hoping.

Tired of caring.

Tired of thinking.

Tired of you. 

So stop. Go away or come back so I can pretend I don’t want you to leave. 

Maybe I don’t.

Maybe all I want is for you to stop.

Bound by you


  

I’m captured by you.

Bound by you.

Tortured by you.

Turned on by you.

Thrilled by you.

Hurt by you.

Consumed by you.

You make me laugh.

You make me cry.

You sicken me.

You control me.

I can’t put you down.

I can’t escape you.

I can’t erase you.

I am yours.

This second, this minute, this hour.

Until I turn the last page.

I am your reader.