Sweating Blood


I wasn’t trying to be difficult

When I collapsed on the floor and couldn’t get up

I don’t know if I can bear this cup

I don’t know how long I can keep sweating blood

I’m getting tired

Of being old for my age

The light burns like a fire

When I’m up on this stage.


Why do so many girls seem to asking

If I’m willing to commit suicide for my family?

As if it’s not love if I can’t pay the price

As if I’m not like Christ if I don’t hate my life

What if I’m real?

What if it’s not a pull?

What if I’m not a steal?

What if I’m hatable?


How could I dare to write a poem

If I can’t pay the mortgage on my home?

How could be concerned about my soul

If I’m not filling the masculine role?

“Honey, making art?

Honey, how could you sleep?

Your behaving like a child

With children to feed.”


Why is no one impressed

Until I turn around with my paycheck

Until I pay my bills

and can afford

To not need anyone else anymore

Do you even care

If I die inside

Or do you just want

A responsible family man’s respectable life?


I always wanted to be like Christ

But I can’t live my life on the firing line

I always wanted a family to feed

But I’m not gonna burn my poetry

I always wanted a wife to adore

But I won’t die up on this white horse

I won’t give up the ghost

I won’t abort my unborn soul