No
Because I don't want to
Because I said so
No
Because I said so
You're not going to change my mind
No
No
[His name]
Stop

The air smelled sweet of promises
The quill wet and ready
The seat sat empty
The page lay bare
Sweet promises turn decayed expectations
Rotting delusions
Spill through quill
From self-inflicted gaping wounds
The worms seem happy
Dancing in the meat of yesterday's dreams

dead head
bed head
eyes red
the blood that you bled
on my soft hands
soaked into your bed
come close
in my bed
kingdom found,
to kingdom come
to dust we came, to dust return
with sin entwining
your cosmic body
ive seen your god
rearing his ugly head
thrashing and angry, I was unimpressed.
the archangel fallen
the blood that you bled
on my pale hands
soaked into your bed.
oh, samson.
the strongest man of god,
weakest man of sin
temptations  
take my hand
your heart lies inside
follow me into the dark
your hair was long when you surrendered
let me take you down
and make you human again.
the fiery lake lies just ahead, calling your name
and it's all you see
fire burning in my eyes
you're numb to your surroundings
blinded by my desires
by a seven inch bloodstained blade
the blood that you bled
on my tainted hands
soaked into your bed.
my iron ship is docked on fiery shores
let me take you away
come with me
to a place untouched by human hands
where gods tread the paths I've made
and the songs of lost souls like mine
echo through the skies.
where moonlight follows my footsteps
my favorite sin smoldering between my fingers
hold.
yet I am your drug.
I am the taste of sativa through your teeth
and the electric pulses in your fingers
after a life time under indica's death like grip
I am the tab on your tongue
riding the waves in your neurons
obliterating the walls in your mind
between dreams and reality.
my war song pouring from your ears
can you hear it?
the blood that you bled
on my destructive hands
soaked into your bed.
my atrophied heart beats once
sending me crumbling
paralyzed on the brimstone ground
your body standing over mine
smoke from my cyanide laced flower
dripping from your lips
and what choice have I
but to breathe you in.
clinging to life at your fingertips,
I was never meant to fall
I was bred a warrior by nature,
heartbreaker by trade.
I dragged my body to the lake
and drowned in
the blood that I bled
at the hands of your god
soaked in to your bed.

No matter how much I tell them no matter how much I do, most will be numb to the fact that  we live after we die.

But that's not why I come to live this life to tell the world about truth and hope that's coming for his very own life.

Jesus is the answer to all dead questions
If religion is your question it will be unanswered..
No matter how much you tell me no matter how much you do.
This world is full of evil just look at the money beside you, giving you clues on how to die for a dead man is unsearchable but to die for the living...who?
Well it's supernatural  and the worst thing about this is he is right in front of you.
breath that's his way of loving you. Have u felt like there's more to life ? Then I'm talking to you.

But no matter how much I say no matter how much I do.. There u are thinking this is another poem.

Rules for punching walls:
one- every time you leave a knuckle imprint on the wall of where he once held your hand, it is just god saying you’ll succumb to giving him another chance.
two- every crack surrounding the holes is just a reminder that the little things add up and eventually become a religion that is also made only of broken promises.
three- the place where bruises covered your hands were supposed to be reserved for a ring when you got married but instead it got the clotted blood of jesus that he never shed.
four- the ligaments under your skin are only torn pieces of what was supposed to be a holy congregation but a rapture happened and now your mind is in sacred places.
five- don’t worry when people look at you like you’ve gone completely insane because that just means they’re finally living in your fantasy. there is no heaven or hell.
six- when your x-rays come in and you realize your entire hand is broken, give me all of the reasons why you ever loved him. was it all really worth it in the end?

Scream loud as possible into a freshly washed pillow still soaked with dreams of snakes and her face and friends who don't give a ****.
Raging against self-inflicted wounds wrought by the subconscious.
Two weeks later and infested again.
Muffled yells at half-volume to deal with it.
Manifested from fears like that kid from my nightmare last year with the macaroni in his hair.
I'm still haunted by it.
Feel that wrench in the stomach like an egg-beater twisting my guts.
Scream as loud as I can into a pillow twice-washed.

Punch the walls, feed the host, burn the demons, starve the ghost.
Scream without a filter and break all the windows.

Sleeping again but it never ends; never stops, never quits or gives in.
Always creeping below the surface.
What did I do to deserve this?
Screaming into a pillow thrice-washed.
Laugh at the clock and make friends with the dark.

Burn the walls, starve the host, please the demons, feed the ghost.
Bleeding from a punch to the window.
Self-inflicted ruin to appease the subconscious.
Scream as loud as you can into a wet pillow.

I never it made it to the moon back
Think I was just trapped
In one perspective
Two three four
Exponentially growing
Like the vines
Against an old brick wall
That tell a story
There’s history hidden in its creaks
There’s hidden lies
In the curves of her lips
And on her hips
And the she lies awake
Because she can barley sleep
Waiting just to die
She lies dormant
In a past state of mind
Or do you think she’s completely lost her mind
Must be scary to deal
With that kind of fight
Can’t be happy waking up knowing not a single bird in sight
Tell me what happened to her life?

I'm not bitter. I've bit my bottom lip too hard twice too many times, but I still wonder why my lips are bleeding. I've said few too many prayers to a God that shut me out before I even reached salvation in the first place. I've swallowed too many handfuls of dirt and sunflower seeds in the hopes that something beautiful will grow inside of me. I'm sad with a boy that loved me so much that it hurt him, and I'm sad without him. My windows are nailed shut, but the curtains won't stop blowing. I'm still trying to figure out how many times I have to get drunk in a church parking lot before I build the courage up to tell you I'm sorry. God speaks in tongues, but I was only ever taught to bite mine. Okay. Maybe I am bitter, but I have the right to be.