poetry
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I Found Freedom in the Closet

Jesus. Jesus Christ. Jesus.
I repeat his name over and over again in my mind.
Condemnation arises and I fight it with the name of Jesus.
Jesus. Jesus Christ. Jesus. Jesus. 

Jesus Christ, hanging on a cross, bloody and clinging to the joy.
I repeat the image over and over again in my mind.
Flashes of my stupidity arise and I fight it with Jesus on a cross.
Jesus Christ, hanging on a cross, bloody, suffering, clinging and fighting for the joy of me. 

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ, hanging on a cross, hurting and fighting for the joy.
I repeat it over and over and over again in my mind.
He is all I want. He is all I need. I fight it.
I repeat it over and over again in my mind.
Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ, hanging on a cross and hanging on until his last breath, because of the joy. 

Jesus Christ. Jesus, hanging on a cross, breathes his last breath.
I repeat it and my mind stills.
Jesus Christ hanging limp on a cross.
And I sleep. I have found the one my soul needs – he is all I need – and I sleep. 

Jesus Christ. Jesus. After three days, he breathes in joy.
After three hours I awake to thunder.
I awake to the thunder of his gentle voice and his joy.

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