Full of Empty

Where is God in it all?  I know he sees and is burdened and pleased.  I am losing it again.

I am too caught in the rhetoric, i am not letting it flow.  i am editing.  I am purifying something that should remain tattered.  It is better when it is ugly.

My voice will never be heard.  I am nothing.  1 in 7 billion is so large.  1 in 300 million is no better.  The idols i have been raised on, fed on, brought to, forced to worship before, had forced down my throat and into my veins.  Stuffed in my ears until i became dumb, poured into my eyes until i became full.  They are nothing.  They will never deliver.  They are like nature: uncaring, unseeing, not vulnerable to obligation, immoral.  They will never produce.  How do I give up myself.  My Idol is myself, how do i destroy myself? 

I cannot destroy myself.  God must destroy me.  He will batter me and I will not stand.  I fill fold, and crush and burn.  I will rebuild on the foundation and be razed again.  It will raise again.  I will spend and spend on my reconstruction until their is nothing left.  And then I will be empty, and God will rebuild. 

How i long to be empty.  I want to be flat and spent of energy.  I want the energy burned from my corpse, the ashes of my remains crushed to powder.  The powder mixed with water.  The water consumed, diluted.  I want to disappear.  I want to be forgotten. 

I do not want to be forgotten.  I want to be great.  I want power and might.  I want care and pleasure.  I want to rape and pillage and laugh at the desperate desires of others.  I want to murder and rip and tear and defile.  I want to be covered in blood and gore.  I want to feel. 

I want power, I want to find a hole and hide.  I want to cover myself with mud and soil.  I want to be safe and warm in my hole.  I want to be unthinking. 

I want to be a child again.  I would never survive.