In Spiritual Battle

You hold me in the armbar of life, God. And it hurts. You're snapping my elbow, bending back my wrist. Royce Gracie in disposable wings. First, the devil's hands you employ, tear me apart socket by socket; ground and pound from ash to ash, spice to spice, my unholy soul.

You hold me in the armbar of life, God. And I don't know why. Because I treat you bad? Ignore you when...there is a deniable God? Ignore you when...an unknowable God sings in mysterious tunes?

Tap! Tap! Tap! I tap-out.!

I submit! I submit! I submit in humanity's octagon, in the daily battle: straight souls on crooked trails. Is this thee, the baleful Father or my imaginary underpinnings sinfully undone...B.J. Penn in Hawaiian garb, jujitsu hold on my furthest leg? The Brazilian Silva? Kimbo Slice of my funny bone?

You hold me in the armbar of life, God. And I submit. I submit to life's confusion, and know unwell the breathing speck of a man I am in the headlock of time.

Tortelli the blogger I am, in the headlock of time.