(hands) flee to (words) unspoken,
they can’t reach.
the hands are my emotions,
the words are memories I damn everyday.
haunting Christ haunts me,
haunts the living,
haunts the dead.
all the same.
did I think that Christ would resurrect my mind,
or just my body?
I know what I read.
renewal means life to some,
just a new label to others.
I grasped at it,
thirsted and panted for it.
where is the renewal I was promised?
mangled mind still mangles love,
but I am not signing a record.
I make no money off this mangled mind.
mangled mind makes money off of me.
did you hang with mangled mind like me,
or did you cry with clear mind and happy heart?
were you broken in body only?
what perfection cast shimmering glory upon your head?
did blood truly pour from your body?
was blood good enough for you to contain?
did skin and bone really hold you,
or did you pull the strings on the puppet you called
mangled mind mad,
calls these bluffs,
even in the dark of brokenness,
knows they’re fake,
pulls the mask off,
I know it was you.
but mangled mind is mad.
cross of Christ,
do you have room for one more?
if body and soul crawled up your splintered beam,
poured fresh blood upon your fibers,
satisfied your thirst,
would you take me?
would you offer my life to the Eternal One?
would you give me recompense to YAH?
how you drive me,
how you dig my grave.
is it not enough
that you have destroyed the ones I love?
must you destroy everything?
must you destroy even your master?
must you destroy the one who gives you life?
but life escapes me,
escapes this mangled mind.
all I can do is reach for Spirit love.
mangled mind still sulks in the corner,