An addict in the attic

speaking in cryptic tongues

with mystic strums of my sadistic slumps

for i am the ******* son

born of the blood of the gun

the rage of the dumb

direct descendant of a sociopath ***

eternally stunned

and the thin lines blurred

in my war of words

vision obscured

linguistics slurrred

leave you disemboweled

murrderrred

He was a heavenly hellion

acting the fool again

filled of dreams and adrenaline

hes mumbling with the manikins

and mocking the shenanigans

of morbid ministers dabbling with their daggers again

a hooligan

with a silencer ******* in

the machiavellian

looming beneath the luminescence of the crescent moon again

new winds fall upon new skies

a new mask to accompany the new disguise

comprise our lies

of gold wrapping and bow ties

as we need not fear now

the truths will set us free

feeling all better now

just look at me

happily

plastic

it was all in the intellect of mankind

always in search of hope

so seldom to find

baring the crown of thorns

without halo but horns

uprisings in every city

gathering in swarms

and i

could feel his eyes on me

but they

they are blind

they

could never really see me.

He screamed into loose winds

for the angels to writhe to his song

but when he stands up

all the angels are gone

just a man

reciting life

through his bloodied palm

conned

Fly not of angelic wings, as the halo is jagged of puppet string.

But wake not of your tortured dreams, for Luna shine so ever true.