I saw the light, but I swear,
It flashed between my eyes.
This tunnel I walk blindly
Being hit a hundred times.

My skin I tear and tear,
To find the light once more
But all I get is nothing,
But blood and flesh and gore.

Your beautiful mind is shrouded by our abyssmal surrounding
The jarring ruckus composed of voices with nothing to say, comitting lustful and spiteful acts just as confounding
You buzz around the gun shots in the night from the heated exchanges of the afternoon, and relish spreading the news in the morning
Yet we all hate the mourning

Your thoughts float along a tributary of violence, carrying too much weight not to be dragged under by the venomous current
And you love it

If only one ambition I could bring to fruition, if only one purpose I would be a leal servant
It would be to abruptly uproot you from this concrete savannah,
this rolling plain of debauchery,
this collaboration of skullduggery,
this tundra of treacherous trollops

And replant you firmly in view of the sun,

She holds my muse captive in a cage with bars of bamboo
I fear if I don't retrieve it I'll never be completed
Use a scapel to spill my guts on loose leaf, then I delete it
It's unworthy, it's too wordy
Got too much love for you I'd be broken if you heard it
And these days, I'm not too sure who recites it
And these days' I'm indifferent with who likes it
Somedays I don't even know the man who writes it
Scribble a wordy flurry and not understand what incites it
It all feels insightless
A pretentious attempt to be righteous
And what is righteousness?
Staring bold faced at the heart of the abyss
Saying even though it's looming I can't be defined by this
Or lose my mind to this, thinking ignorance is bliss
Enlightenment ensorcelled with the progress of humanity
Standing hand in hand with a communal prosperity
No severalty severity
Trade your famous 15 seconds for just one moment of clarity

Dear Father,

It is with an intoxicated, profound, and perhaps misled familial respect and gratitude
That I write you and I ask of you
That you assess your cavalier attitude
On your own life and widespread dissidence you feel
For when your recklessness kills you and I am to serve you leal
I would be disingenuous to gaze upon the eyes of all your peers
And not deliver an encomium weighted by your grievances and jeers
So if you must die, please give me explicit instruction that you have cured your lover's quarrel with life and it's inhabitants
If you cannot I will stress the points of your plight with an unrelenting adamance

I have the honor to be your obedient servant,
M. Whit

Feminism is lying
It is not driven by equality
It is driven by dominance
And I, a humble observer of what is both beautiful and empirical
Have no argument for the contrary
Their fertile nature and ensorcelling majesty, I am but a myrmidon
To what is the zenith of divinity
that this circumscribed world permits