All is quiet in the house. Your slumber is almost the loudest voice in my head.
I can only sit idly by and watch faceless creatures of my rage battle with no armor.
Reaching outward, spinning within,
I grasp at letting go.
All I know is something I treasure, yet wish to lose.
Empty pockets don’t drop many coins.
Eternity taunts my limited time ticking without a halt towards a future that ceases to exist.
Faith in lack seems to be all we’re granted.
The riddler laughs at my fate.
Surrender to this cruel joke is all I can do within its confinement.
The escape route has a road block, and armed guards ordered to shoot on sight.
Every pleasure is lined with thorns and ***** my weakened hands.
Alone is all we can ever be.
The gift of senses is our curse in this nightmare dressed as enchantment.
Wolf in sheep's clothing, he nips at my ankles.
If I stumble I lose a foot,
If I fall I lose my life.
Buried amongst the leaves is my hope to comprehend.
But no knowledge can ever cut through these chains that bind my ability to be free.
My tears contain my rage,
my rage contains my innocent notion that drives me to madness.
The simple yearning to love without condition, to touch without getting burned.
Where did goodness lose the battle?
Eve ate the fruit that grants her breath, birthing her condemnation.
No handbook to guide us.
No map to get us through this maze.
We cannot know what kills us till we die.
This utopia has no order.
No leader.
no captain at the helm.
So many souls lost at sea, until the waves break their vessels and swallow their strength to persevere.
I ache to be a shepherd without consequence.
It's hard to stand on broken limbs.
The pain is all that cradles my fall.
Hush little baby, don't say a word when you're mockingbird cannot fly.
The dish ran away with the spoon,
The little girls laughs as I eat with my hands.

There's a lady in the morning fog
who feeds on porcelain thoughts,
And she haunts the edges March.
There are no five point dancers
With their evening red and gold.
Ready and willing to tumble and fall.
Just her, alone; In the bog
listening to us all.

The beasts only swim, crawl, and fly
By the Sycamore, rotten and petrified.
In Death there is life
And all ears are amplified.

     "Testify."

"Are you the soul that brings fear?
The Specter of my own Heresy?
Get off the wind and answer me.
Will you light the wild and chant the Lord's Prayer?"
    
    "Through all my inequities I'll never
      know sin like you.
      Whip the poor and condemn the youth.
      Blame the ******!!!
      Clergymen tend to always do.

"We are justified!

To do what we do
Is the work of the lord!
Truth will always bend
To the ambassadors' works."

The feast is for the thin, chalked with divine
And those on shore: honest and rectified.
Breath is man's plight,
And all eyes lie.

There's a man waiting at the edge of dawn
Who purges a man of his own thoughts
He owns his defiled marsh.
There are no five point answers
Without their threaded holes
Steadily fulfilling to us all.
Just him, enthroned; on a rock
Judging us as we fall.

Sing to me a song of fear,
for all the lovers you've held so dear.
You'll listen and watch their fallen tears
and call their names, not knowing they're near.

Sing to me a song of shame,
for all the blissful sins you've named;
wallow in burdens and sorrow and pain
and crimson from which you've carelessly stained.

Sing to me a song of night,
for all the times you've tried to hide
from the truth and reality of all your lies
as you see them now; your angels all die.

Sing to me a song of love,
as you walk away, unscathed from above.
You fly, now free, now white as a dove.
But you smile, and know

you've had enough.

Hatred in a misinterpretation of what
people think I linger in. I have no aversion
to this thought process, I just choose what
I know is true.

That understanding of facts where those who
delve to regurgitate inconsistences upon myself.
Why do you wish to ascend your misgivings on
me when like a viper all that is bitten upon is untruths.

Repugnance on a belief where I have non, free thought
facts and realistic virtues are what my life is based upon.
But you spite me as I am not held back I reject your
inaccuracies that have taken over a cognitive thought.

Deities are like clothes so many have been and then
like fickle thought, kicked to the curb for the
newest trendiest misgivings of whom to blame for
what we have subdued on ourselves no other to blame.

*"I have objections to inaccurate speculation
where truth just doesn't seem to connect on thought,

The bombs already drop
in rhythmic succession,
brewing but little
condemnation.
Millions bleed the colour of soil -
impoverished by
rich mans toil.
But not a tear,
not a song is shed - unless,
they bleed the colour of
the dollar bill.

I am the ***** in your colony,
You loved me so completely.
Daily devotions in a bathroom stall,
Always answering to the call,
The presence of God was within your heart,
Your conviction tore me apart.
I repent my sin
But you still won’t let me in,
And cast me out
While you remain devout.
Good Christians, ha!

1/8/2016

I am here
Waiting in the dark
Oh the sky
Don't let me cry.
I suffocate over the dreams
I have nourished in my eyes.
Let me go off
To follow my instincts
Call me the name
To be my guide to save me from
This condemnation.
The way leads to me
To the inception of the end
With no option left behind
And I'll be left here
Broken into pieces.