__1flesh

Daddy,

This is so weird. I haven’t done this since last year. I pick up that you want me to walk through this writing a prayer for my pending three strand union. That’s what I’m choosing to do. Free-fall in this unnerving feeling pitfall. 

Love, 

Dreams, 

Trust,

and Believe

is the book God took me

to document for this he

and me, which makes 

His See of Three:

what you lead me to see. 

Regardless of this hiss

and diss of the poisonous kiss

by the now 131 legalized-lie 

of wrong she, who refuses 

to lose the ruse,

or flee from this he you keep

saying is for me, 

which feels 

like a reel,

talking and walking,

cheap creep thrill. 

neither this he or wrong she 

want His Gills or to let go

of this cancerous 131 show.

this wrong she confused 

the M you sent about me,

so this wrong she went on

a mission without Your Permission,

to a decay and delay in 

131 sinning not winning, 

matrimonial worldly 

coldly not boldly wedding operations.

wrong she decided to hide,

behind calculating lies,

that now causes wrong she to cry,

and internally die inside.

wrong she swallowed a hallow

wrong throng allowed bow.

where a decay she now wants to stay 

secretly with shame 

and no fame weed that bleeds.

From the premarital oral sex detested plough,

in the space that now has 

a disgrace no matter the mrs. title place,

this four month fast track 

was nothing but a pale scale attack.

the ms. to mrs. transition part,

never positioned this wrong she

in this he’s heart,

instead dead lead 

and far from this he,

who doesn’t see this wrong she,

because he doesn’t 

care to be aware or even stare.

there’s no glee for this he

just combusted toxicity.

wrong she took a vow to

bleed this wrong seed weed,

due to the hue of

wedding rings that truly sting,

from this risk taking 

engagement fling to wedding bling;

never became better or 

together, just the combust

of now faded lust, 

because lust will always be

the see of worldly radiated 

rust of this dissed hiss

131 wrong hue strand:

will always be a sinning 

no winning pitfall

residue in a sinful savage,

not godly marriage quicksand.

131 is a trip up in this 

wrong she + this he hiccup, 

in year one 

of worldly wedding vows,

is still not enough to stop 

the countdown clock,

which ends this 131 

cancerous chaotic,

toxic,

and robotic 

routined show.

this he doesn’t love 

or cover wrong she,

this truth has so much 

supernatural and tangible proof, 

still not enough for this wrong she

to stop pretending in sending,

mixed drink messages,

to a night community 

in a building with no godly wings.

that wants this wrong she to flee; 

because they too see: wrong she is

not meant to be with this he

who God keeps saying is for me.

I love you God. 

I believe in you God. 

God you’re my Daddy,

that I trust completely.

With my dreams and 

my fears from all these years, 

I silently and violently lied; 

I secretly died on the inside. 

I cultivated wrong he confetti 

that never sexually replaced 

the space or my disgrace in my empty. 

Every sex partner made me feel like a peel 

of radioactive decay, 

in the replay of yesterday; 

and the ongoing sorrow of no tomorrow. 

After you healed me from three suicidal attempts on my life, 

anorexia, 

and three mental breakdowns 

suffocating strife; 

I choose to be set free and finally see, 

you Daddy will always be for me.

I will walk through any talk 

you place in my space,

because you’ve freed me 

from the bondage of disgrace. 

In visions you give me a lot 

about your other children 

that you love deeply, 

and sometimes I want to 

pray for them to stop 

pressing send in pretend 

and be set free.

Yet other times you Daddy 

walk me through 

the ugly that needs 

to flee in my heart. 

Broken people break 

in a stake of fake, 

that makes us lie in disgust 

and want to take. 

Thank God you are a hue

that will always be true. 

Thank God you are bigger 

than the flesh god facade trigger.

Thank God you make all things new.

Thank God you rise dry bones.

Only you God move 

the groove of the past 

to no longer last.

And lift us in the switch 

of the gift in today by us 

saying okay to Your Obey.

Thank God you set us free.

To finally see and be godly. 

I know it’s wrong to want people [that hurt me or those I love] to suffer for eternity. Jesus forgave me, so who am I to not forgive those that hurt me to hide lies inside? I hurt people too, and whether they’ve bless me with forgiveness or not; forgiveness is what I’ve received, you still set me free Daddy. So when I walk through my reactive flesh, I confess my distress and protests. That’s when you shower me with the power of your midnight hour. Your grace and mercy always sets me free Daddy. __1flesh is what you have me zeroing in on, with this he that’s a struggle to believe is for only me. 

According to your biblical scripture in the book of Genesis: in the beginning God created man to be in His Perfect Image, and ruler of all dominion on all creatures of Earth. Okay Daddy, but humans are self sabotaging, destructive impatient imbeciles with severe god complexes. I’m at the top of that list, yet I’m somehow changing into this human I completely don’t recognize, which blows my mind. I truly no longer feed stronger, in the paralyzing prison of the rewind in time, by my broken token mind. Never would I have ever imagined, being set free from this decree; because to me this was my eternity. 

According to your scripture you hate divorce Daddy. You also hate sin. And you really hate blatant disobedience. I have a theory that you keep supernaturally showing me Daddy: divorce is a result of humans going ahead of you God; and not allowing you Daddy to strip us, of what will make us combust from sinning, that will never be winning. Like the 131 legalized-lust combusting rusting operations, and that couple that I dreamt about on the fifth month of the year two thousand sixteen. As I draw closer to you, I see the current events of this world’s blatant disrespect. I’m so baffled by the fact you’re not saying flip it: let me Sodom and Gomorrah this planet. Like I’m really bothered humans are still tripping in their quicksand sinful slipping. I’m like well I’m not lost; I’m found, and I know where I’m going after my eyes close from this prison called earth. 

Earth is an elision of lukewarm sin, where societal and cultural habitual routines, created a disgraced space called normalcy. Normalcy is a toxicity that’s worldly, in areas like premarital sex and fornication. 131 is now a marriage and result of the worldly savage baggage of premarital sex. 131 is a result of this hissed dissed operational sinning not winning tailspin. When did that ‘oops my bad I’m sinning,’ become a cute worldly winning? I don’t get it Daddy, at all. It’s gotten so blatantly disrespectful in buildings with no godly wings, where man created a quicksand to stand, and lie in a die called worship worldly: coldly not boldly, like the building you pulled me and Jojo* from. These buildings are all a unilateral elision of omission from the submission of The Holy Spirit. Yet they’re called church. 

I love you God. 

I believe in you God. 

God you’re my Daddy,

that I trust completely.

With my dreams and 

my fears from all these years, 

I silently and violently lied; 

I secretly died on the inside. 

I cultivated wrong he confetti 

that never sexually replaced 

the space or my disgrace in my empty. 

Every sex partner made me feel like a peel 

of radioactive decay, 

in the replay of yesterday; 

and the ongoing sorrow of no tomorrow. 

After you healed me from three suicidal attempts on my life, 

anorexia, 

and three mental breakdowns 

suffocating strife; 

I choose to be set free and finally see, 

you Daddy will always be for me.

I will walk through any talk 

you place in my space,

because you’ve freed me 

from the bondage of disgrace. 

In visions you give me a lot 

about your other children 

that you love deeply, 

and sometimes I want to 

pray for them to stop 

pressing send in pretend 

and be set free.

Yet other times you Daddy 

walk me through 

the ugly that needs 

to flee in my heart. 

Broken people break 

in a stake of fake, 

that makes us lie in disgust 

and want to take. 

Thank God you are a hue

that will always be true. 

Thank God you are bigger 

than the flesh god facade trigger.

Thank God you make all things new.

Thank God you rise dry bones.

Only you God move 

the groove of the past 

to no longer last.

And lift us in the switch 

of the gift in today by us 

saying okay to Your Obey.

Thank God you set us free.

To finally see and be godly. 

I love you Daddy so much. 

Love your daughter.

*names changed for privacy purposes. #TeamProPrivacy

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