You're the kid that asks how the cotton candy skies got that color
except now it's all blood red
"I guess God killed all the angels" he said
and I think:
baby my wrists are rags, ripped up rags,
and needles give you bad memories,
and my minds a black, empty, hole but it's still so ******* heavy
just a weight that no matter how much you want to say you can, you just cannot carry
and you need to stay alive
because there's no spots for angels anymore when they die
but I just can't bring myself to say it
and he knows people only remember things about me
like the fact that I like whiskey, and my suicidal tendencies
a lining of lightbulbs
infused on the wire in my brain
he says Jesus was like any other psychopath ,
just a normal schizophrenic
and if there's a God
we pray for him to fix the problem he's created
what if heavens just like hell in the form of a maze
golden maps leading you to places you aren't any happier
acid trips into abandon attics,
blonde babes with tied up hair
and yellow teeth
cracked out, veins
complaining that the life they hated ever changed
he says I ruined the calm after the storm that no one lives to see
the ending of the bible
that no one has enough attention in them to read
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 9:12 PM UTC
You're the kid that asks how the cotton candy skies got that color
except now it's all blood red
"I guess God killed all the angels" he said
and I think:
baby my wrists are rags, ripped up rags,
and needles give you bad memories,
and my minds a black, empty, hole but it's still so ******* heavy
just a weight that no matter how much you want to say you can, you just cannot carry
and you need to stay alive
because there's no spots for angels anymore when they die
but I just can't bring myself to say it
and he knows people only remember things about me
like the fact that I like whiskey, and my suicidal tendencies
a lining of lightbulbs
infused on the wire in my brain
he says Jesus was like any other psychopath ,
just a normal schizophrenic
and if there's a God
we pray for him to fix the problem he's created
what if heavens just like hell in the form of a maze
golden maps leading you to places you aren't any happier
acid trips into abandon attics,
blonde babes with tied up hair
and yellow teeth
cracked out, veins
complaining that the life they hated ever changed
he says I ruined the calm after the storm that no one lives to see
the ending of the bible
that no one has enough attention in them to read
Here's a poem I wrote after a conversation with my brother in which he told me that Jesus was just a mentally ill man and that Christianity would've never been spread if Constantine didn't become a Christian, which got me into thinking about my own mental illness and believes on religion. The first line came from my English teacher using the term blood orange to get us to vividly imagine something.
