sonnet fails and other unfinished ramblings

Every year, I struggle with what to give up for Lent. Again, I don't know. Instead of giving up nothing, I generally make a mess of things and give up an assortment of tiny pieces of life. One thing I found I enjoy doing is giving up a specific time of the day. Like saying: 10-10:30 in particular is not mine anymore. It's something like devotions except more like an additional meditation. It doesn't seem like quite a "fast", but I'm bad at this Lenten thing anyway.
The problem I've often faced is that I don't really find myself craving anything. The things I do, I do for one of two reasons generally: personal growth, or social growth. I don't watch television by myself, because I don't consider television to be a point of personal growth. And giving it up socially doesn't make sense, since that isn't a positive sacrifice (it affects my friends more than me).
I don't like chocolate, or alcohol, or coffee a whole lot. I don't drink enough tea to consider eliminating it from my life. Food isn't really an issue in general with me, I think. I could give up certain foods, but unless I'm eating socially, I don't generally have many cravings (except juice and chips and salsa - maybe I should give up those someday... but I'd probably starve)
So what else is there?
I could give up people (just kidding!)
Or reading (terrible, terrible idea)
Or writing (nope)
Or gaming (I just do it socially - so that would only eliminate how I get to interact with a few people. Not worth it)
Or work? aha!
Nope nope nope.
I wish I could give up computer-time after work. That doesn't really work, unfortunately. I could give up facebook, but I'm spending less time on facebook anyway. It's still an option.
My roommate A once gave up his beard. I could do that. Nah.



I fear, more than anything, those days where my heart is a giant hole, a whirlpool at the center of me dragging everything in, and its obverse: an eruption, an explosion of everything falling out without aim, direction. I fear these not, except as uncontrollable spews of devastating days. Where you find yourself lying and staring at the ceiling, wondering how long it might be until anyone noticed you could fly; you collect the tears of angels and brew a bitter tea, and sing the most beautiful outpouring the world has ever seen, but if you are a tree in a forest, great and empty, what joy does it bring?
I think two nights ago was thus, the staring endless at the ceiling.


kneeling, my knees battered, gnawed to the bone -
like the doe that's panting, grant me water -----zzzzz
to fill the cup of dawn, dry and alone.
intercede, holy ghost, and heav'nly father
bring honey and mead, lead on beside streams;
though we e'er falter, help me rise again
grant me the grace of being, of sharing dreams
until nothing of me but love remain.
imploring of the stars, merciful Lord
one wish, upon all the singing sea sands
oh how long, how long will we be ignored?
I'm whispering; praying such things thus ends:
I begged for great things, and of it naught got.
I asked of a little, and gained a good lot

I think there is a reason I don't try to freestyle slant-rhyme sonnets. I probably shouldn't try sonnets in the first place, let alone quickly. This is a testament to my sonnet shame.