For a thousand miles I walk, I'm sure the lie flies faster.
The destruction of doubt drowned out by the sound of laughter.

For every truth told a lie is hushed elsewhere, balance the scales and prepare for the birth of rumor, for the truth is buried in the pile of gossip talk and acid spit, now it's all up in the air and turns to acid rain that burns the flora of the future.

I've been wrong before and I'll be wrong again, but I'll plant the seed of truth because hushed lies close eyes and obscure the facts from the days of our lives, news gossip force fed down the channel to the front page of media on which we suckle- the teet and milk of ideas to fit our personal narratives.

For every mile the truth walks, the lie flies faster.
In light of the facts the lie cannot hold and it's doomed to fail from its creation, it's the birth of disaster.

I'll speak and hold true the best way I know how, but all these lies and hollow words taste sweet which is why the truth is hard to swallow.

Flicker in the hearth
The light inside her eyes.

I believe humans mean well and evil actions can't survive;
So let it be, praise be, call out to the streets, overall we'd rather die with dignity than survive in defeat.

I once met a homeless man who spoke of sane things, he lost his home, lost his mind and lived on rat bone meat. He kept his optimistic outlook and spoke of future kind, that homeless man may have suffered and in the end was somehow still kind.

Dirt and mud,
I dig through the blood.

Buried bones of the unnamed artist.

Commit ******, floorboard secrets
Hidden in the walls of the house
inbetween the pages of a storyboard fairy tale life.

I shovel through the muck and mire, I sweat and bleed and hide my work.

Selfish desire.

Digging for truth, digging a hole deep to bury the secrets and with the corpses and the secrets they keep.

Look inside and you shall find what you seek,
Desire.

I shovel the dirt, cracked soil and ****** ground
Oil and gold hidden in rock and earth

Bury the bones on which I wrote a story for the ages

A human time capsule, ****** was the way only way.

Who sits before you, in this ****** white shirt.
Busted nose, black eye, possible cracked rib.

You look at me and think I've been through hell, what if I told you this was a typical Monday for me.

I wear my scars on my body to show just how much I can handle, they may as well be medals, I am not made of glass.

I am not fragile.

You want to sit around and cry and whine and ***** about the wicked world, well let me assure you, I don't care about whatever you think is wrong with you.

You hide your scars, not because they're too ugly or too deep, not because it's too painful to remember, it's because they're not real scars.

You wound yourself in the mess tent then request a purple heart, you walk on the backs of everyone else and when you cross the finish line you think you've really made something of yourself.

At best you're a hack.

So here I sit, you can yell, scream and shout
it'll do no good.

I am not glass and you are not stone.

You a phantom of power, a specter of strength.

I'm warm blooded and couldn't care less about you.

There is a cost at which my soul comes.

Inside me lurks a fire, a beast, a demon.
I was born to control, I was born to dominate the world and bend natural order to my will.

I know for most of you this seems self indulgent. I assure you, you will bend to my will.

There are those who do and those who exist and those are the only two true kinds of people.

Your childlike relationships to this land, your 'home" have left you weak, your superstitions and traditions have become antiquated, you are dreamers who are finally waking and before you- I stand

Wide eyed and well aware of the future.

I don't need you to like me, I don't need you to understand me and if I'm being honest, your support means very little to my plans.

For when I walk, I walk as God.
For when I speak, I speak as finality.

Long before me there were apes and now in my time I see cavemen, god knows what will become of society when I finally rest.

There is a cost to my will, it comes at the price of silence.
The price of blood, of guilt and shame.
I know none of it.

My will is law and my law is absolute.

I have paid in blood and flesh to have what I have, while you deal in silvers, golds, gem stones and cold hard paper cash, I deal in something far greater and more valuable.

While your wealth comes and goes I am transcend the living rock, the thousand year root, the jellyfish immortal.

In this age of men, I alone am God, for God is dead and I sit on his throne, while you sit there slack jawed, wide eyed and impressionable.

The cost of this power came at self expense and now you are left to pick up the check.

Ode to master and king.
Hail god and leader.

Our faith misplaced by shiny crowns and golden rings on hands who ring necks of the nonbelievers.

To the slave pit with them and silence the voices, for in my court there is no equal.

Ode to master and king
Hail god and leader

Granted rule and law by holy sword or divine word from the stars,
there is no equal in my land.

Where olive trees wither, so does my body.
The spirit of  fight has left me alone.

The rot from the dirt has tainted the roots and now all that grows is self doubt and pity.

Where apple and pumpkin rot in the sun, where grape and pear shrivel, there is no life left in these dead barren lands, save for I.

Save for I.

On dying tree bark I have told the tale of life before the fall and now all I can remember is after the fall having given my memory to the dying trees.

Where the soul withers away and the blood runs dry, I am the king of the rot.

Where olive trees wither I leave a sun dried wilted corpse as a reminder that life once was and shall be again- in time.