Addiction to Sensation

When the air is still,
and the wind no longer carries your call
When my skin no longer grows bumps,
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 you don’t overshadow my sober mind with a Holy Spirit high
I question if you love me, or if my mind is fine.

Instead of sticking to moral reasoning and my common direction,
I walk along 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,
Because at least then I’ll always see your stern face turned in my direction.

My lonely spirit would rather have 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 the Luke-warm unknown
Because at least then I’d have your constant presence, although it pushes against my spirit.