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.

i stay awake on purpose, stupid me.

Is it possible to blink oneself to sleep?
Do you know what letters feel like
before they are arranged?
I imagine it is like swimming
with less mobility
and warmer.
Have I missed the sunset
too many times
to call myself a romantic?
I have many pairs of shoes.
I want them to match my hairline
and mood swings
but no matter how much I walk in them
they do not change color,
they are too much like me
and not enough like clay
only the laces come undone
and the soles wear out
after too many uses.
What makes a soul intact?
What bomb shelter do you use
for thunderstorms?
Mine is named Jesus.
He does not get angry when I ignore him,
though occasionally I wish he would.
What if I woke one morning
and all my shoes had walked away?
What would I do if one morning
all the letters of my Bible
had re-arranged themselves?
I have never not believed in Jesus.
I have never lost myself like that.
Will you explain to me
what it is to be certain of uncertainty?
Is it like the taste of copper in my mouth,
is it familiar things
in cities I have never visited.
I like the water
because I do not float,
but I have never fully sunk
like it is just enough control,
but I want to know what it feels like
to survive a waterfall
is the drop short,
can memory be that contained,
or must it be like a sunset
observed but unmeasured,
is forgetfulness an art,
like improvisation is to jazz musicians?
I used to know much of insomnia,
but that was before I had things
worth lying awake for.
I have never not believed in Jesus
and he has never not believed in me
but I have always doubted myself.
If I walked without shoes
would I wear holes in my feet,
would my soul find my eyelashes
and sneak through them
when I try to not fall asleep,
would it be worth fighting through the dam,
if I were unable to tell you
what heaven looks like?

shockingly, i couldn't sleep.

"do you write mostly about sad things, or happy things?"
"oh, 50-50," i say.
but really,
let's be honest.
i write what comes easy.
if i could actually embody sadness or happiness
i would not want to tear apart this parchment
water can be drunk fastest lukewarm
and it's rare my pens see the true extremes
i'm good at pretending, dear kate, very good.
most would call it sad or angry
i call it half-ass
see,
i've never found my voice, still
and i am looking under all the bookshelves and lampshades
i was born four weeks early
so it's possible it never developed,
isn't it?

screw finals.

there are many things
i would like to write
and can't
things i would rather not write
but have
will
and there are nights
when finding ink is like
pulling blood out my veins
with a straw,
the opposite of pleasantry.
leeches and ticks get
far too personal for me
and perhaps
i fear they'll run
my pens dry.
i have no qualms
with insects
who space themselves
a polite distance from my skin,
and i am not so proud
to think
there is inspiration inside
these blood canals
worth protecting
but i've got to take
what i can get
so call in the exterminator
and let's pretend
this is in
everyone's self-interest.