breathe in incense smoke— swirling carcinogen, but not my favorite. not by far, not when bruised lungs run in the family. smolder, smoke, ash, original sin, a debt i am going to make you watch me pay. i'm always playing the victim. i read seduction, i breathe in incense, to maintain an innocence i never had. it just feels so religious to self-flagellate. i speak in tongues and don't make sense, i try to trace myself through the guilt, and envy jesus. at least he had the nails as reference. how many times you've done this before is about the only difference between being a martyr and deserving it.
Target on my back Wishing my pockets Were happy pharmacies And not sad reminders Of long expenditures And indiscretions At night Here now In debt I'm in your sights Madam Cashier Take the first shot Bill me later We'll call it even Equal compensation Or a semblance thereof I spent freely Allow me please To die the same way
I owe you my life My wisdom My talents My strengths My beauty. I thought I knew myself but I’ll never know me like How you knew me. And somehow You looked passed the ugly And deemed me Deserving. Pulled me to safety Away from the edge Inspired within me an urge To give you my pledge To serve.
When I thought I reached a peak I was proven to be short sighted. When I was presented with the answers My heart was delighted And my soul lifted. You are like the stick my stem is stuck to As I grow tall, broad and straight. You are the rope I hold on to As I climbed and floated, And you were not bothered by my weight.
You’re a friend to me You’re the someone I always wanted. Heard me cry scream and sob And you were patient when insulted. And so I live by your mercy And you remain exalted And I pledge to continue serving So that I can prove to you To myself That I am deserving.
Thunder rages on outside. I am not the only traveler who has not repaid his debt. It attempts to scare me into succumbing to the dark and to the rain. I would like rain to accompany me on my endeavors. But I’m too much indebted to afford it. The skies want their money back and the heavens have sent lightning. They need it back to bring back order. Such a concentration of darkness in one mortal isn’t natural. They demand it back. They need it back. They send the rains to make me yield to wizardry. I do not and smile in hope that I’ll belong to the rain someday and rain will belong to me.
She got dealt a bad hand in life. But she didn’t fold. She kept playing. She didn’t walk away from the table, And leave the casino like she should have. She keeps playing the hand life dealt her. And she’s slowly going into debt. Deeper in the game until one day she won’t be able to play anymore. She’ll be out of money. Out of cards. I just pray it doesn’t come to that. I want her to fold. Leave the table. Leave that lifestyle behind her. Count her losses and move on with her life. There’s more to life than that hand that life dealt her. I just wish she could sober up long enough to see it. I just wish she could see that there’s so much more to life than the hand that she was dealt.
A swollen sun descends upon us. small children at play with painted faces. time is not an endless tick, one and then another (the plague nearest our dwelling) but a single broad and present moment stretching out and on forever. sometimes i feel my heart will burst scattered about, then gathered up in a world of rag and bone. seeds for the great harvest are but a payment for a karmic debt - a purple heart sacrifice of my broken hand - a slice from stem to stern. my eyes they sink into my head. the world is a deep grey beneath the deep stars. the constant chatter in the skull - a fallen angel named Moroni. my sunken eyes watch me lift the bad hand the heathen of my good intentions - the purple heart of a bad apostle the shackles of my station the facing of certain destruction within the grim Hallway of Anubis. a single moment stretching on forever and a balancing of the heart. a swollen sun descends upon the third circle of Hell - a place where I no longer live.