You know the feeling.
When you only force yourself to smile.
“You're sick. You're a sick bastard.”
You know how that goes.
Wishing for that hole in the ground, that cleft in the rock; somewhere to hide inside for a while.
Until you feel good enough to step out.
Until you wash some of the shame off.
Maybe until your heart stops hurting…
Or until it just stops.
At this table there is always room for more.
When will enough be enough?
When will your draw the line?
What is it going to take?
You're a weak little man.
“Man;” I shouldn't use that word in reference to you.
How I wish I could cry over the things that hurt me the most.
Over the things I've done to hurt you the most.
Please give me that.
Even tonight, even right now.
I want it. I want to cry before you.
I want to be open before you.
God please make something out of this shit that I've made myself.
God I'm sorry for replacing you.
I'm sorry for being Hosea's whore.
Forgive me for going back…
Forgive me for being unfaithful…
Forgive me for hurting her.
Hopeful for a call back…