late-night-post.

sin wants me to kiss it so it can go tell, take it to the motel, it's pulling on my coat tail, of my blazer, it's about to get tasered, not by my power, but God's who's heaven's mayor. each layer, He's peeling it off, I just don't want that pink slip from my boss, I would like to be caught, fishing for men, gathering 10 to 20,000,000 instead of helping pack hell to the ceiling, sin is more appealing, it's like the apple with the worm in it, and God seems like that hunk of spinach, it just doesn't look right, but until you take a bite you try to deny it's helping you like it did Popeye. That's why I'm no longer trying to grab some thighs, and I ain't talking about a 2-piece from Popeye's or Church's, I swear I was the worst one birthed but I'm glad God showed me my purpose. Now it's just up to me to walk in it, no time to quit the race, if I can just finish, I'll be with the saints and there's no ending, to this bliss we call New Jerusalem, this is only the beginning.