It's simple...
There's no heaven, there's no hell,
Only good and evil
Atrocities carried out by people
One of the biggest cover-ups is under the steeple

...and even still,
Just to shiit and giggle a little,
Let's say da bible is factual
Then heaven is empty & hell is full

No one can live up to that mantle
Not a single soul
And if you do, by some miracle
Don't forget about his branding of a sin original

I'm not getting tossed in hell
To burn eternal
Because I couldn't unravel
Some self fulfilling riddle designed to be impossible

And as a whole
"Where the Fuuck've you been?" That's all we'd like to know
I'll go one step further, I want him held accountable
As the trinity or individual

I can't wait to ask questions that make a "GOD" uncomfortable
To watch him back track and stutter a little miiiiiiiiiiight be worth it all...
...okay, here we go...

©2024

I've always been the kid in the hall
Outside the office door of some metaphorical "principal"
Donning a dunce cap, back to the wall
Anticipation spikes in general
This time it's special
When waiting for the next hypothetical, often hypocritical, shoe to fall I make it a double
Dribble and drop the ball
Taking on the challenge of life was a bad call
The order's too tall, don't try it y'all
What I've been given to work with is abysmal
Can't rely on it being factual at all
A criminally out of date owners manual
A For Dummies series appealing to a low level criminal
Vaguely creating, and/or aiding, this failure ritual
Oh the unmitigated gall
Scheduling my burial service to take place before the funeral
Fuucking brutal
I hate it and it seems the feelings mutual
The line stepping is habitual
The backward motion is perpetual
Not sure any of this is avoidable
But, what do I know...
...everything and nothing is impossibly possible

©2023

It's a miracle that when I hit the proverbial wall I didn't split my skull right up the middle and spill it all
Not able to gain full control, a factual portrayal of self betrayal as usual
Once beautiful, evidence of it not admissible, miserable and hypocritical
A little dysfunctional don't ya know
All the scars that don't show are what slow the normal flow
Out of my mind cause its inhabitable, so I turn to a radical but experimental cure that'll baffle the medical field because its all hypothetical
What if I didn't hear my call to greatness or maybe I just dropped the ball
I could make a voodoo doll and place him at the finish line so I could win after all

Instead...

My fall hit terminal velocity before I stained the city streets and still survived impossibly
Low visibility so there's no way to see what's right here in front of me
All the money in the world couldn't put humpty dumpty or me together again indefinitely
They just don't have the technology to put me back the way I otta be
There's a high probability that I live in a realm of impossibly
To actually believe that I could ever be a normal man in this society is lunacy
But do I even want to be a part of this idiocracy? I mean really
But it's easy to get lost at sea, holding on so desperately to a buoy as the waves that represent the calamity of life pummel me savagely
No key to the shackles that bind me
I'll be lucky if luck ever finds me
Try not to give a **** but life always reminds me
So I gouge out my eyes to permanently not see

Now...

It's only darkness as I regress to a familiar residence
A yellow envelope taped to the door, no more light access, only dark witnessed at this address
Under constant duress from the excess stress and an abundance of B.S.
The absences of a conscience is the best plan to make it easier but I must confess
That this chess game is at a stale mate, zero progress
I don't even know what progress feels like, seems like I only digress
But I still obsess over a success that will never be reached due to being far to careless
Nevertheless, I continue the process even though I don't possess any finesse
Like a bull in a China shop, I make a mess of everything with nothing but my presence
So in essence you could make a case that my existence here, by every measure, pointless
And you might be right, at the very least it's a good guess

©2018

i feel like i am the only one hanging on
even the wind could blow us apart
your fingertips traced the cracks in my heart
the pieces a mosaic of pain
your disposition in the shadow of vain
how do flowers bloom?
is it natural, too focused on the factual
tunnel vision, student of the actual
if you wanted to, you would
if you sought to, we would