i found mold on the ceiling of my heart

After the dust has settled
and nothing but bones have remained,
i wake up from sleep,
as a deep coma,

the years passed without
bothering to inform that they
had exited,
leaving me crow’s feet
and the insurmountable
bills of foolish decisions,

gripping and clinging
too long
to strangers whose
quick acquaintence
masqueraded as love,
the rope of loving them,
choked common sense,
love knew no propriety
as i loved college professors,
and a therapist
whose pace-maker he insisted
i trace with the hungriest
of fingers,

this morning i have finally decided
to give up trying to fix
the dissolution
of a marriage that my parents
had vowed to keep
in 1963

the thousands of puzzles
and conundrums,
the hundreds of mouse
traps that have gone
off inside my head
snapping me back
to the reality of NOW!

so-called solutions
i have erased,
i have tired of prying them
from My Saviour’s Hands,
graciously He returns
the remnants and fragments
of what i had believed trust,
and love, and hope to be

i can only sense He knew
i would be back to carry
those broken pieces
that i continually tried
to paste with saliva,
and incinerated fingerprints

It was noon,
I’ve finished lumpy porridge,
but your eyes didn’t meet me
across the kitchen table,
i averted my eyes away
only a second from you,
to look up and find you gone
wasn’t my desperation good enough?

i struggled with how often
i would let those i loved
rip out my entrails
relatives knew no boundaries
did not respect the treaties
nor acknowledged borders
i had forged

For years my eyes
have been oceans
the thousands of times
i let all of you break my eyes apart
and search through them
for yourselves?
weren’t you given permission
to re-build them
wasn’t your vision of my abuse
for you?
for us?

thoughtless words
flew at us

when we tore and rend
our souls with words,
when the shards
are so vicious,
they become exact
as scalpels,

When i was 27,
the first demon
breathed his curse
relentless hoofs
crushed my chest,

everybody knew i battled demons
that i tilt at invisible windmills
no one but i have sensed
my Sword has fallen into such
a blunt blade,
will never send those
gargoyles back into
the pit from whence
they crawled from,

For some weeks now,
my secret has found
sunlight and burst open
i found mold on the ceiling
of my heart,
i pray the Holy Spirit
would flush the worst
of me out
God scrubs the bitterness
with tests and trials

but i refuse to relinquish the hurt
let me keep my incisions fresh
let them get infected
i need the poison of my pain,
the rust of my tears
acid liquid to polish
Jesus, i wrote politely on skin
dipped into scarlett ink
no more confessions
disrobing the sin in front of You
real prayers peel the layers
of doubt away,

as i lay paralyzed on the floor
i don’t mean to crawl,
somedays i can’t even walk

When yesterday,
i soared with wings like an eagles
this minute, i am reduced
dumb ostrich with prayers
buried in the sand
depression has buried
my soul deep in the wreckage

i remember Loving You
was better than life,
when Your Love kept me
in the world of my
disquieted nature
When Your Presence
pierced the fortresses
my soul has put up
to keep all the others

My suspicions never Included
i distrusted quarreling
and suspected religion
of emptiness,

chalked up my relationships
to enigmas
to the strange heads
on Easter Island
the coarse Englishman,
the old professor with cat hairs
on his sweater,
my volatile daughter
and the strangers
with the multiple arms
of Shiva,
who constantly
need to be embraced

i retreat into the foreign
rooms of myself
listening to Kyu Saktamoto,
and Domenico Mundungo
the lyrics i could not translate
still love was just as indeciperable

the irony of it pleased me
a wierd appetite,

my flesh has told my spirit
it will not surrender,
without an Armageddon
of it’s own

Often i find myself
waking up in a pools
of blood,
“Where are You?”
Your Love is better
than all things combined

i retreat into the igloo
love has frozen over,
the ice state of civility,
in places where etiquette
is considered love,

i walked away from
so many wildernesses
called “churches”,
where love was reduced
to ritual, and ceremony,
when singing hymns,
and a multitude of bible
was the depth
of revelation.

40 days or 40 years
know that i will bear
the sand in my heart
until i find my way
back into Your Presence.


i found mold on the ceiling of my heart

Matty B. Duran

Fresno, United States

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 9

Artist's Description

Since i suffer from boderline personality disorder, i still struggle with bouts of depression. It is at these times i feel my soul has left the Presence of God. Although i know this is not true, since all believers are temples of the Holy Spirit. I try to make sense, of my emptiness, which is a hallmark symptom for those who live with this particular mental illness.
Although I truly believe God has freed me from many of it’s symptoms. I believe and know it is incumbant upon me to be especially close to my Heavenly Father in prayer through my Saviour Jesus Christ.
But, speak to the imperfections of the flesh, and it will still claim sin is only a human expression. Thank-you for reading.
I began on RB July of 2009. A gracious thank-you for allowing me to write.
My Most Gracious Thankgiving to My Saviour Jesus Christ. TO GOD BE THE KINGDOM, THE POWER, AND THE GLORY NOW AND FOREVER!!

Create in me a clean heart here

Artwork Comments

  • Catherine  Howell
  • Matty B. Duran
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  • Matty B. Duran
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Matty B. Duran

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