As such, I am an imposter!
My painful lungs attenuate
acrid, bitter smoke.
Successfully marketed relief.
Myrrh carresses focus
and irritation during
silent scrutiny.
I impotently raise my arms,
fingers spread like antennas
toward an infinite heaven
behind the veil of illusion.
Trust God, not senses,
not the voices of the
self annointed holy men.
They tell me hell awaits.
I know it does,
I've been chased to
its gates by hooved
and clawed creatures.
In visions recurring,
during periods of
my spiritual paralysis,
there I am crippled
and blind to the spirit.
Where faith becomes
all that is left to hold
and I drown until
I receive his
comforting transmissions.
I receive blessings
in spite of my
wavering confidence
in the Lord's existence.
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