Wake up half past midnight

Dreams of war still on my mind

Sleep in place of thinking fore mind rotten over by passing pains

Blood in sink from vomiting bile and acid

Stained red from holes bored deep in my chest

Smoke my self stupid and go back to bed

Cold crying alone reaching out for whats left

But whats left?

Memory of a time before time?

Every detail other than what I did to deserve this?

A memory of the perfect women I myself have never met?

A malignant vision soiling all other women to my eyes.

The image of grace burned over my ability to love

Life as the paternal guardian, friend to lovers father to friends

I march on the promise of better days

For the first time a pin hole of light

At the end of this flawless darkness a beckoning

"your faith is not blind"

Understand just how weak I am

The passion of gods left for mortal embrace