death is a ray of sunshine
traveling and burning through our atmosphere
searing the skin
numbing the senses
it doesn’t matter where we meet
or where we sleep or where we eat
or who’s to blame
what are these hands that clutch for grief
that work for a brief period of existence
maybe death is a way of travel
a ray burning through other atmospheres
breaking out of the skin
elevating the senses
and it didn’t matter how i met death
or where i slept or where i ate
no one’s to blame
because these hands are outstretched in space
another place

create and deviate from all thoughts don’t think inside the rules are dead and are killing you the road is harder when you think then you think it is and you sink defeat pain in numbing and humming and strumming the rays of the sun with the blades in your arms devour god he is not afraid he has no power he is a crumbled twin tower and our hearts went into the rubble and into the drones and into the children thrown into religion's destruction and our souls burn away while we wait for our world to do whatever

what are you doing that matters to you? create nothing to last forever until the end of when we dine in the dust and sink or soar no more drinking the wars of humanity or thinking how to solve the insanity

Darkness gave me religion. God, if there ever was one. Dreamt up in a void.  Some reason not to fear. Not to fear the silence. The blanket of it washing. And the violence that it brings stops me cold.  Should I not fear a God that idles while the world suffers? While big brother strokes the senses. My senses. The incense is blinding from reality. What world. No, what hell is this? As I stare at the, at the reality ******* tv. At the dreams of vanity. I dream a passive apathy. What prayer shall I pray to the first world deity? Bring me.. bring me. Love me because I can’t love myself. I don’t know myself. ******* pixelated. The filter by which I see all things, breathe all things, believe all things, hope all things, burn all things, endure all things, fall short of all things. As I stare. The ceiling becomes an unsettled sea. I see her first before she notices me. The demon, the angel, the ghost. Whatever. The chill down my spine as her arm extends from above. Those eyes open. The fear in my soul, as it sinks. What prayer shall I pray? When silence descends upon me. I touch the glass holding the hours as she stares back. The corpse gazing from above. From below. From inside. What has religion brought me? But a crutch and a gag in this first world reality. Then she is gone. As quickly as I knew her, I have forgotten her. Underneath the hideous surface lay beauty. That I may never know. How can one know when there is no silence. When the waves of static wash over. Diluting creativity. Activity. Progressive thought. She was a nightmare. So I thought.