Meet me in the Garden
Where the wind whispers through the willows
As they bend to nature's mighty breath
Meet me on the sandy beach
Where the peaceful ocean ebbs & flows
Like the cycle of life and death
Meet at the the place
That can only be called

"Home"

Where no one feels abandoned
Where no one feels alone

To not integrate
To bring men, all of men
Faceless men
To a cave
To be amongst but never within
Where nameless figures
Bound by archaic scripts
And lies
Killing in the name of God
All in the name of God
Bound by the undefined
And lies
Twisted to resemble
Art
Despicable art
And more lies
Creating monsters
Through no fault of their own, yet monsters.
It can not be golden
It will never be golden
You can not infuse beauty by telling gilded lies

If it gets you through the night,

you could sit there on the couch and pretend that I’m not listening.

We’ve been over this time and again, yet here you are flipped

from side B to side A. I hope your tape breaks and this message

is flipping in the wind on a tab with a marker

marked red. I hope you understand.

My life feels like vacation but my… well everybody

will promise you violence over practically nothing

and I think I deserve a better planet. Instead I’m here.

It’s marginally all my ego, but mostly I just want to disappear.

I swear; If I break a heart I’ll fix it, but I’m a disease and a symptom,

and I stick like bad religion. Worshipers take shelter from this cult.

I’d even stab you if I had proper motivation,

and I didn’t treat myself like my own martyr for nothing.

The “real” me may only be what you make of me anyways.

My image of myself only exists within my head,

and in that image I am rotten with perfection.

My only corduroy is torn and smells of bleach,

but I’m too sleepy to change into my skin.

I swear I’m more than just an ordinary sin,

just because I’m also my own martyr.