Addiction to Sensation

When the air grows still,
and the wind no longer carries your call.
When my goose bumps fade,
from your spirits gentle brush.
When my eyes grow dim,
and when my dawn has turned to dusk...

I question my reality.
My mind reasons against your existence.
For I’ve grown so addicted to your spiritual touch,
That if I cannot sense you, or if my sober mind is not overshadowed by that Holy Spirit high,
I question if you love me, or if my mind is fine.

Instead of sticking to moral reasoning, or my common sense of direction,
I walk the narrow fence,
Trying to provoke you to reaction

I put myself in danger, just to feel alive again.
I disobey your scripture, just to feel some conviction

I cannot stand this luke-warm life.
I’d rather be cold, and rage war against you.
For it would be better to endure your harsh and judgmental statements,
than to bear another moment, alone in my own silence.

I would rather become completely cold, than to sit in this Luke-warm unknown.
At least then id feel your constant presence, even though it wrestles against my spirit.