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Treacherous Land

Can you pour music into my soul? Can you divide the lines between forgotten and unthoughtfulness? I am strange. Strange is my name. I go by the titles of Hitler, God and the Devil. Acting as one being, I am all powerful. My words cut through like ice upon the ground. Melting into your very core. The common withdrawals of my life tend to create an atmosphere humid with lies and deceit. Propaganda. I am the overlord. The great being that coincides with the path to destruction and sexuality. A vagina moistened by the spit of a politician. A reckless behavior, known by my cunning smile and grinning mouth, I engross myself in the knowledge of good and evil. The later being the most interesting. Did you ever hear the story of mankind? A dwindling pack of rats scurrying through life with the will for wealth, drugs and sex. A greedy coin collector locked inside an attic. A basic complication. The worlds most renowned contradiction. A magnificent art of bones and skin. A neck, a support beam in times of headlessness and ill-being. I will forgo my judgement as a walk-on to Heaven's door. A key needed, I use my snaked tongue. A crime so easily forgotten by those that are rotten. No longer holding back, my flames scorch your heart. A thumping paper bag in a locked chest centuries old. Can you take the distance, mile runner? A treacherous land this is, Filled with snakes of every color.
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Written by
gavin-ray-davis
American
Published
Nov 16, 2011
Lines·Words
34·249
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