Sundays

Some notions come like a drop of dye into water, seeping and spreading, ink that stains. 
These words are just here to inaccurately state what I'm feeling, either jotting down nonsense or staring at this ceiling, with eyes that are strained.
I anticipated I would come and write this some day, wrongly portray, and ashamed at what I would come to say.
First my backwards religion, filled with sideways glances, pulling at the strands of the cut tie's frays. 
Only in a shoddy market, then in a sturdy chair, succeeding my dark car, onto my favorite streets filled with emotions I won't ever relay.
My honest thoughts never leave my mouth, but get close and linger there, in that warm air, almost spoke of my scenic route, but first became aware at how little you must care.
Second, is regarding my infected ideas about what it is that came about, because I realized how badly I wanted to keep you, in turn I knew I had to attempt to shut you out.
I got triggered; twinges of twice-removed tender tendencies and untold treacherous and tiring thoughts about traitors, and saviors.
I'll get to being able to handle this someday down the line, it's a near open wound again, and I decided finally I wanted to save it for later.
Secretly I pray with fingers crossed that Jesus Christ, you'll see me try to slip off, but will pull me off this fake makeshift cross, instead walking off to return the favor.
But either way my disappointments will be amplified and sadness fabricated, I'd bet I'll sabotage this all again if I had anything at all left to wager.
I couldn't want to apologize more, than finding someone who is deserving of everything you can think of, but in return I will run my mouth to keep from feeling like you're bored, what is this for?
I will do everything I can, I will jump ship and swim for some empty land, I'll be at this constant self tug of war.
If you treat me well I am unworthy, make you cut it out, but if you treat me poor I'll be busy in my head doing every little thing I can to even the score.
It's a disgusting debate, I swear I now want nothing to do with and I'll desperately struggle to turn a leaf and begin new on this clean slate.
It's promising and self awareness brings me crass comfort, I'm simply trying to pull myself up into that mind state. 

purge (pûrj) v. purged, purg·ing, purg·es v.tr. 1. a. To free from impurities; purify. b. To remove (impurities and other elements) by or as if by cleansing. 2. To rid of sin, guilt, or defilement.

purge - an act of removing by cleansing; ridding of sediment or other undesired elements cleaning, cleansing, cleanup - the act of making something clean abreaction, catharsis - purging of emotional tensions