The Prodigal Child - Spin Me, Deus

Rebellion, Recklessness, Realization, Repentance, Restoration
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Spin me, Deus. Make me forget which way I'm going. Turn upside down and don't stop me until I can't tell left and right. Then, in your infinite wisdom, give me a sign that doesn't tell me what goes where, that doesn't tell me which way I should go, that doesn't tell me which way I might want to go. Instead, give me a kick in the ass that tells me which way I will go, dammit.

Spin me, Deus. Give me a brand new 64-box of crayons, all of them grey. Go ahead, give me another. I took two from the last one and here I stand, one grey crayon in each hand like a pair of knives, ready to take on the world. Ready to jump off the cliff and color everything I can on the way down.

Spin me, Deus. Change the name and faces and voices in the few dreams I can have anymore. Make them so nobody is who they were, or who they should be anymore. Just who they should have been. Because dreams don't go away when you wake up, now do they?

Spin me, Deus. Make me so that I don't want to do anything but kill my brain watching mindless television. Then make it so that every single second of that television wounds like an arrow to the chest. Then make me sit there watching every last one.

Spin me, Deus. Give me a dozen games I can't play because they're all either too old or too new. Another funny joke. Look at all the fun I could be having. Too bad I'm both a couple years too late and a couple months too early. But don't worry, I'm sure you'll have time in those months to think of another nifty trick to play.

Spin me, Deus. I'm juping at shadows again. Every noise is someone I know in pain, or someone coming to finally take me. Things that were never alive have a nimbus, or are a few inches too big, and soon I'll be crashing into things again. But at least the walls aren't falling in yet. That takes another few nights without sleep. Kill my dreams, Deus.

Spin me, Deus.