Fulcrum

The prayer of a righteous man avails much.

Then what, Lord, of mine?

I need a steady vigil to even know right from wrong.

What of my prayer?

Is it forgotten? Pushed aside?

Where's my prayer, Father?

Has it risen to your ears,

Or did it die upon release,

Crumble in my hands?

You see, that prayer was my weakest;

My flesh can't afford much more,

And I want to make sure it got there

Without being put out on the way.

If my faith is what carries it,

Then it's sure to have fallen already.

If love was the messenger,

He, too, would trip along the way.

See, it's for these things the prayer was for,

And if it depends on them, 

Then I'm shooting broken arrows

While aiming for the Sun.

You're the agreeable type.
I know you like me
but that's just because you like everybody else.

I understand.
You're just a nice person.
You want to give everyone a chance.
But if you try to be best friends with everyone,
you won't really know anyone.

You've eased me into a meltdown
smiled me into an addictive disappointment.

I just feel sorry for you-
one to the next you're never alone
and never yourself.
I wish you could come out of that;
then you'd be real.

I'm holding out my hand.

ambitious coward

Sorry I'm so out of it
-running so hard just to get here-
now where am I again?
Boy, am I glad to see you.

Now that I'm here,
you seem to be different
-another look on your face-
I guess I imagined it differently
in the blur it took to get here.

Maybe it's not what I thought.
Maybe I should run back.
You wouldn't run with me
not with that look.
I guess I'll run back
start all over.

porcelain

here, girl
I'm coming
coming to take your porcelain hands
are they open, are they free?

I'm scouring the deep
sailing the seas
to find the words to say
the words that just might do

because I'm on my way
finding things to make you smile
turning into a better man

the kind that hopes he's
gentle, strong, and pure enough
to take your porcelain hands

the prequel

I'm the smile that looks away
the child who barely plays
I learn but I don't rehearse
first worse

this pit is bloody steep
the light may be bright
but it's way up there.
this pit is my sky
the walls are my reality

I can dream all I want
try all I can
you may have all the rope in the world
but what is it to me if you don't know,
can't know.

only if you can sweep an ocean
over my blurring anger
or quiet my selfish pity,
only then-

-only if your salvation
trickles down past my feet

as your love soaks my lungs

-only if you'll free me
from the books of fall-short helpers
and shallow fortune tellers

-only if I can continue
to loathe the old, embrace the new,
and rediscover time and time again
a whelming and sufficient mercy

only then
in my pit
will I take hold
and be free.