Sensation.

I want a song to sing
to snapping fingers, but
the sensation of sinking's
Sipping at my soul, yes,
sucking down my spirit,
leaving me dry and dying.
The self-absorption of
loneliness alone can consume
this consciousness of
drowning in dry air, oh,
God, Abba, Father, please
spit me out where you will,
I feel caught like phlegm
in your lungs, coming undone,
and while I want brokenness
I also want hopefulness.
and while I want holiness,
I don't know how long I can take this loneliness.