**** it,
Damage.
The small hole that lies
In all hearts
Is a larger part
Of my whole,
My arteries hold no
Holy blood, but
Ole faithful spurts
More life then ancient articles.
Art is Gold.
Not folded in papers.
Though, these zig-zags have
Had their fair share
Of wear and tear on my soul
My core
Is iron ore
I wore, and tore
The fabric of space
For us
To meet face to face
Fate
Has nothing to do with it
I only ate
The apple
To show the faults
Within me
With sin
I have nothing
Left
But what heaven sent
Right
Next to me.
Where window’s to a soul
Hold enough water
To feel a widows pain.
I see through you
Like sheen stockings
Worn
To hide
What you’re trying to show
On purpose
You’re perping
Like the drug
That deceives me
Into believing that I need it
Needless to say
I’ll take needles
Of your love to vein,
In vane of God’s name
As I search
For the rib
I lost in his name
Competing with
My empty heart
For completeness.