It was somewhere between
her third and forth ******
when the wall, came down;
a wall she didn't even know existed--
A wall, that is,
until love came to town.
And so it is, within the pleasurable;
when mixed with pain,
in certain moments;
becomes, quite obtainably
the death, of death..
within the loving-kindness
of things known, anally--
(the tenderness of a back-door man
is a righteousness, all it's own),
as it is the intentions of the heart
that brings one closest,
to that of kingdom, come.
And yet.. an angelic, front-pew voice
singing praise
when heart-- unchecked,
can become a clanging sound, unholy;
drowned out, by the passion-screams
of the one, once-bound--
but now, breaking free.
(a truly righteous sound in Heaven, indeed..)
--and Love, Love, Love;
is rarely what we think it otta be.
(or maybe, there is a heretical-hell
waiting- for those just like me.)
But if what passes itself off as life,
is actually Life, indeed
then I choose hell, (yes. again, indeed).
And if heaven, for most.. is nothing, but a crutch
I'll choose death, over death, every ****** time..
thank-you-very-much.
rantings, of the insane.
or **** it.
or whatever..
--you're welcome.
https://youtu.be/sf3KG8VAtJg
~J Morrison, inebriated