thank you, dostoevsky.

these are the days i throw up my hands
curse someone else for my intelligence
because i want absolution
from this freedom of choice
you can't understand
what's it like.
that belief hurts;
that i knife fight my reflection
with the thorns from jesus' head
oh yes
i would die for this
but i want
i want
TO DOUBT
and i don't.
never have.
but i too am terrified,
for if i am wrong
to what purpose is this trajectory?
i throw up my hands
curse my intuition, and convictions
they do nothing but make me feel foolish
and break my heart with what i have not done.
i have now shown god to anyone.
i am not the image
of everything i believe in so hard
so why am i not different?
i am supposed to be different.
jesus jesus how i trust you
how i've proved you o'er and o'er
but only for me.
so what is a missionary, anyway?
and are they ever full of thrown out papers
like my heart
because i'd just like to throw
the theology down the disposal
but i can't
and neither will i help anyone else
to where i am today
so
maybe this'll recycle itself
into something worth saying someday
but for now
i throw up my hands
curse the god of redemption
for creating me the antithesis to Thomas.