Between the liens

I wear my emotions on my sleeves

I'm as transparent as it gets

What you see is what you get
Correct me if i'm wrong

Whence did I receive rationalizations galore of righteous indignation?

I got my foolish zeal from you

There I inherited my infatuation for justice

And my great pride?

My boldness in the face of evil?

My extraordinary self-confidence?

All from your example

My phobias come from her 

My pushiness from her

All empathy from her 

My pity from her

My cunning—all hers

Nobody knows as much as you though

She was severely mentally ill

You were completely and stubbornly sane

Her illness would manifest a complete manipulative two-faced bitch at calculated times

You were just a self-aggrandized asshole caring more about the prized stallion more than tony the pony

She received treatments for a time, and then adamantly refused because she was fucking crazy

You never received correction or ever accepted therapy though

Your excuse? 

You didn’t want to lose your kids

Your excuse?

There were no counselors Christian enough for you

Your excuse? 

Secular psychologists couldn’t or wouldn’t empathize with you

Her excuse? 

Does she even need one? 

She was sick

Her natural personality was triune

The frenzied wrath of a father, the fleeting wind-likeness of spirit, and passibility of the son all wound together in one flesh

She was fucked up

She was literally insane most of my life

But you? 

You’re a prized stallion

You’re a former athlete 

You’re a soldier and patriot

You’re sovereign and national

You’re a prophet, priest, and king

You’re a martyr, shepherd, preacher

You’re now a doctor, too

A man after God’s own heart

Look at what you built

Look at what you defended 

Behold what you have sustained 

Your career of presuppositionalist herem had much success

Like the late great Mr. Pink

Sipping communion at home until his dying day because no one was as prized as he was

No one sustained what he had

Not one soul on earth fought tyranny and built walls of estrangement as high as him

Praise Obama 

Remember that letter of her excommunication that my brother and I wrote? 

Me neither

I remember you writing the whole thing and telling us to lie for you to the session 

Remember how good at chemistry, and math, and history I was? 

Me neither

I didn’t have to be

You either left the answer key lying around or you were too busy building God's kingdom to follow through with love and attention

You left all that for an insane woman to take care of—absolutely brilliant

Why did I become an addict at age fifteen? 

She bought me cartons of cigarettes

Bribing me to steal from you

You modeled resentment and bitterness
You sculpted an image of war propheteering
You recited the grace of God's Law
You delivered the real goods nobody else would
You denounced all cowards for their pablum

Whose habits do you think contributed most?
Perhaps that's a false dichotomy?

The great irony of puritans is that they can’t r/e/a/d

The great tragedy: they insist they can

Because they know they’re clever

And they truly are

They wave their God-in-paperback around in ways that would still make John Knox proud

Upon the first blast of the trumpet
Against the monstrous regiment of women

She received the capital punishment you thought she deserved

To which is added
The contents of the second blast

You became sovereign and she became homeless

Death is right here—Be sober o soul, and read between the liens