Ave, Ave, Ave

perhaps the monster is just another part
of who i am. an extension grafted, skin-deep
but having taken root, it is beginning
to consume me alive.

i no longer dare to write,
for fear that my words are too lousy.
my gp flounders, thrashing like
a fish on land desperate for water.
and not because i cannot,
but because i can; and this
superiority complex consumes me.

i dare not be myself, that i
may hide my frail, decrepit body,
ravaged by the frivolity of each
tear-jerking moment.

damn you, david.
you disgust me, you are
just another simpleton, insignificant.
lies have been spun about the false
front you enamate, but you know better.
only you do.

but i see only in times like this,
a radiant light that shines through.
and i have the strength to be who i
am made to be.
for it is not by my strength that sustains,
but its God being made perfect in my weakness.

Amen.