Faith is jumping that pit in your stomach
*Faith is jumping the pit in your stomach*
I want to believe
Really.
But, there is
This little bastard
In occupation, in me
He runs and twists his heels
Into my flesh.
I think he’s on to something,
Or on something......
Is truth a drug?
Something has him rattled.
He spins and jumps, stomping
Pins and needles feet.
That’s why my eyes squint
Wince, focus, stare
Into those words of yours
Searching for their weight.
But lacking substance
They only float higher with
The wind from the door
That I walk through–
Away.
It is me trying to find something to hold on to in the face of not wanting to see the truth.
