nathanael.ink

well.
worship music, is something else. . I’ve never been so surrounded with it, in such a very long time.
I’ve never felt so good, and so willing to do what I’ve stuttered to even speak, as if to act. this comfortably then makes me cautious.. and I feel myself in the same place as I was, just, feeling much better about myself. suppose it’s quite literally like looking at something from a different angle. the problem, cause, resolve, and absolute resolution might be identical, but my gaze at it is different.. but
a thought like that, sort of makes things feel. worthless. “all is vanity.” makes me want to write Ecclesiastes, or read it at least.
outside of a dim light lit for loves sake, .. the long shadows cast have me guessing for which love it has been lit.. and I end up in cautious mode again.. I’d call it fear perchance I reconsidered the word “cautious”.. oh fear, you are the absence of the giver of my strength. of all I need, you are the absence of..
as much as I negate the phrase entirely, still I wonder if there is some depth to think I ought to be myself. perhaps to reconsider what myself is, would be the goal when I heard such a line.
I need to gain a mindset that I have nothing to prove. that I am, and it is enough. yet for salvations sake I continue to recall that I was not enough, thus Jesus blood.. perchance I am to claim that which He has made me. but, what then if I walk with a tall ostrich neck and press myself in ever strange obtuse angle? what if skins rub? how can I recover when she does not think I am that which I have been made to believe I am? It is possible to find a human that could love in the deepest nth degree with only the knowledge of who I desire to be fully. must she then take up blindness to what I am? to keep focus of what we long to be?
what then is love on earth? but two lovers of God, loving God?
and all the while it is written, that afterwards in heaven, there will be no pairing off, but all in Him in fullness. all in love. what then could I gain today? but accountability, and the quenching of a possibly ruthless desire?
I am scant for words always. but oh… oh.
how a genius thing. if this passion given through the soul, is designed to stir that of the spirit. perhaps it is, for it is those things which it finishes.
and maybe, the emptiness I continue to find here, pumps the engine, is fuel for fire, to liven and reinvent the purest love of the spirit which can only be appropriately poured out on Him..
then from here I consider myself, and I am glad to be at least that I am. and from here I being to think “from here.. I could perchance love appropriately a woman. having considered such things. having acknowledge the Lords ultimate ability to do as He would with me”
so it is that evvvenb still. i cannot seeem to root it out/. what a dreadful bother I tell you! truly I grow obtuse I know, I simply am, I do, i feel it grow. or perchance I take the world to literally as it responds to me.
ooooh but how the worship, it resounds.. and I respond to it. just let me worship God. sweet.. sweet. sweet goodness love let Yourself in!..

judging by the strong antithesis of the foregoing statement. I’d say in my case a simple shake of the head or glance just right would suffice.

it is fair
to say home is unlike a lady
to say she is not completely a comfortable place.
it is fair to say I am not lonely
that I am justice, and righteousness
that the Christ I am made new
that I am unlike my body.

seems stern to make believe I am stuck.
seems aloft to talk like I am perfect.
but seems right to say
just as the scripture says..

this lens makes me glad, makes women attractive and celibacy a spirit’s daydream.
Bolton is epic, Groban dramatic. Sinatra like a walking like a pal with an ego big enough to carry us both through.
The ebb in Chopin and many a revisited symphony.. I feel class, distinction, lines don’t blur or become faded. not thin, but surely vivid.
..
time will come for me to whine more.. but not in this moment. this breath which is life at all, which is life in full. within life, and the absolute whole of it. if my span is ever relative to the another breath, then God may say “whine lap-steel, instrument yourself up to me”
but until then, I will fill my head with the truth of Scripture. the belief of a spirit, and strength of a Holy one.
deep in it I am an absolute.

dear God aid me to uncover and believe the truth of it. dear God uncover.

every letter a looser stitch
each word a button undoes down my coat.

now no wonder..
done it all myself.. the way love looks like porn
and words like a poem

is to bare yourself undressed.. it is the way I walk
my confused face,
disgruntled bodies in a fig’re 8
in love. well in life I face the same way

each women the same complex
she faces uneven emotions;
I bare naked, as truth intended, but reality must
sink in.

“Hello, here I measure myself for you.”
“Yes dear, I enjoy the films, have you heard me cry?”
“Oh heaven, YES with the arts! Here I can die&undie!”

it is my art to undress.. I from it, my life is a complex..

I don’t know why nights like this, or people like me, exist. truly I don’t, in a way that I believe it’s true that we are in fact here, but the reason for it, I can’t conceive. if only to make others feel better for not being us.
see but. I really don’t feel so bad. I just, don’t really want to be alone. not just, facebook status alone, but, literally, alone in this apartment. alone in my car. alone any place. it just doesn’t keep me sane, that’s for sure.
it also make me desperate. and I remain desperate until I remember that there remain people in this world that I do not enjoy the company of. and more so, there are people in this world that do not enjoy my company, and there is nothing wrong with that. in a way, that I wish there was, but I don’t have the heart to try to sustain such a fruitless argument on the topic.
I don’t want to be disappointed, that’s for sure, and I think that’s partially why the thought of relationship is twisted all up in my head. but I think ultimately, I more afraid of disappointing. of disappointing whoever they are.
to this day everything feels like my fault. which, I’m sure it partially true, but it can’t be completely. I mean, I just, I really hope it isn’t. or at least I’d like to know, how much of it is.
does everyone think what I think, they just are smart enough to not voice it? is that what’s going on here? I mean, if that’s the case, then maybe I rightfully feel everything is my fault. my fault I’m so lonely. I’m just not good at being friendly without being obviously trying to be friendly, which then is implied the next level of relationship, which I may or may not be seeking. but, I probably am, because I’ve been so lonely.
man. fault fault fault fault.

someone wise needs to instruct me more. cuz, I have some instruction. which is good. but, I can’t readily follow I think, because.. because I don’t, and feel I can’t. because… because. I’m way too lonely to be picky. the adage goes “beggars can’t be choosers”
that’s wisdom too. I’d say.
so maybe, just stop begging. but. I’m lonely. but, I’m really not lonely. like, to the point of “oh man, get me a woman that I oohlala all the time” or something, but, just “man. look at all this empty space. get me someone to talk to, and carry on a conversation with”
but,
that doesn’t happen. and oddly enough sometimes BECAUSE I don’t want to that oohlala loneliness yet. so. it’s odd.

bbbbbbbbb.bother

in light of my head
and the words that fill it

how it makes me emotional
blahblah blah think emotional joy ride blahhh

in spite of this I hear
words like harmony over mine
which say slow. slow down. analysts die unhappy
poets die young like men in a war across the sea;
stitches are too weak for apathy.

you cannot fear disappointment, but use wisdom
you can’t walk without confidence, but flee from arrogance
be humble, but show authority
be charming and witty if you can, but don’t overbear the conversation
control yourself, but show attraction
be yourself
providing you are these things.

you need common interests
it’s not a gameshow, you don’t have to document your life
it’s about honesty,
but if she’s lying, you cannot know. if you do then that’s weird.

remember. that ultimately neither of you mean anything.
there is no such thing as soul mates,
and love does not exist.

and the point of a date
is to prove all of this wrong.

or, try to. ..um, consider just trying once or twice, after that, just sorta, try somewhere else,

my body is loose and free and clear

but of my heart I lose control

my body is set and outright though livid

but in laughter,  my heart is remote

and then my mind meets deprivation at day

my body splashes sin

my mind paints with lines unconnect

my body lives…

so out with my eyes

I am sure of something coming, while details I am not sure of, I still am sure of IT, and all IT entails. in the same way one can be sure a memory presides, but cannot be reached without an arrow or a stimulus; in a way that just thought could conjure. a stimulus is needed. a physical, an emotional, a trigger just out enough have a place to come into. to come in at all. like the way a door cracked is open enough to be physically closed if desired but close enough to being closed to be considered closed for any sort of mental comfort. or vise-versa. I say that for you to grasp the the smallness of what I consider a stimulus, that it could be as easy as a new perspective on a subject matter that then strikes any memory, which the other perspective would not.

I mean to say most that in the way I cannot recall some memory on wholly own accord, is it not to say the memory is not there. That said, I compare to my belief in the future, memory being compared to a forecast which is in me, but I cannot reach. a knowledge of some concept of what is to come, but details and actuality I am not sure, but, I am sure I know somewhere in me; and as soon as I reach it, or as soon as the thought is stimulated, I will cognize it. it will enter my consciousness.

so your answer can wait, as even mine, waits.