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Tuesday, May 20, 2014


I'm a consummate failure
That pales in comparison to righteousness
A constant success
At exceeding expectations
For messing up
Only to dress up any indications of fractures
By acting out...

I pretend to have no doubts
But the cacophony of questions
Just gets louder and louder
Until my conscience is drowned out
By the swelling of my pride

Sleeping dogs don't bark
They lie in wait; one eye open
Right outside of Hell's gates
Preying on my need to feed my ego
Because the high of self-inflation
Is better than any needle (it's a steeple)

Now I'm ripe for the taking
Fattened up for the kill
As the ghost of Aleister Crowley
Haunts my ears: "Do what thou wilt" 

No regard for man or God
Brokenness spoken out of the human heart
Leaves nothing to chance for divine intervention...

Waking new life requires dying in the dark.

(cf. Psalms 34:18; 51:17; 138:6, Isaiah 42:3; 57:15, Colossians 3:5-11)

Soli Deo Gloria,

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