My Monster

Feeling restless. 

I can’t stand this wandering feeling pulsing in my heart, writhing in my mind, squirming in my being. It’s a dissatisfied restlessness. Sometimes it comes, like an itch, and it’s uncomfortable, hard to ignore, difficult to ease.

And it feels wrong.

It derails me. And I can sense the sinfulness within it. If let loose, it would turn to anger, to swearing, to spitting arguments, to words that tear like a silver knife.

I sense its power. It’s a sleeping beast of my flesh. Sometimes the desire to wake it up comes in the heat of a moment. I could just shake it a little. It would greet me with green, thirsty eyes. I could let it be free for a couple minutes. It would feel so relieving to set it free to do its damage.

But if I unbind it,

the harm it wreaks will be worse than I can imagine.

And only regret will follow.

Parts of me are so tempted, hungry, desirous because I seek

how good it could feel.

A moment like biting into sweet berries on a heated day.

In the end, though, it’s a poison. And that satisfaction is fleeting.

The berries turn bitter, kill the Spirit within.

So I’m begging for this offer, temptation, beast to be taken away.

Kill it before I hand it the reins.

Or, at least,

Lord,

give me to strength to battle it until the day it will be silenced forevermore.