Everything hurts.
My every syllable is a sin and I cannot confess to the kind stranger in the church because he has never had the devil wage war inside him, God has laid a path for him with roses and gold whilst I trekked through forests and marshes hacking and slashing at every demon that snarled and bared its teeth at me. I left with bleeding wounds from myself, or was it the beasts? it doesn't matter, we are one in the same now.
So you see, that nice priest in this holy house has nothing to say, with all his bread and wine, because my demons whisper louder than he screams, and God and all his angels lay silent and hidden as I succumbed to the devil's velvet tortures. I live in a hell of my own creation and no muse nor divinity can save me now.

Hear the white noise?
It steals away all tender moments.
It is a thief of joy and affection.
It drives towards disorder.
It tempts man to stupidity.

Hear the white noise?
It’s the sound of 1000 guitars.
Not with glorious chords.
Not with wondrous solos.
But with feedback.

Hear the white noise?
It lead me down the wide path.
It brought me to the easy way out.
It allowed me to coast through.
It blocked all natural thought.

I heard the white noise.
I let it steer my soul.
I let it play me.
I allowed myself to blame it,
For losing you.

This is one of those rare nights
where i just want to be alone,
and feel safe in a blanket of isolation
rather than unraveled and bare,
where others can see me.

True, you envelop a
Thief in broad daylight
Reaper of Smiles
Apocalypse in private worlds
A sudden eclipse in a glistening light

Yet you are not omnipotent
You are neither the creator
Nor the adjudicator of flesh and souls
Malevolence, stubbornness, determination,
And belligerence is your resolve

Hate me
Without cautious despite.
Hate me with
Ferocious luster, without
A gleam of hope of you
Ever finding my smile
Endearing again. Hate me
So good, so bad, that my eyes
Are forests with dense trees
That you get lost in and always
Want to leave. Hate me without
Guilty despair, hate me without
A burden in your heart, instead
Of hating me without you.

Hunger is a strong word,
My mother warned me once.
It goes to the gym and lifts
Some weights so it can have
Some masculinity to flaunt,
Even though flaunting is
Usually a very feminine thing.
It carries milk gallons with ease,
And claps between every push up.
Hunger is a strong word,
My mother warned me once.
It can hurt you.