I was molded by his own hand
sculpted to perfection and eager to please
who else other than my husband
for without Adam, there is no Eve

at least, that was before he slithered into our perfect life
pounding our perfect garden into the ground with his slick feet
conniving and a brute,
he convinced me to take a bite
and share my fruit with man
for what is mine is his
my knowledge is his

I am his

together we ate
snacking and licking our fingers with glee
wiping the secretions of the fruit of mankind
against the tree we tore it from

until our Paradise's pastures declined
the wildflowers overtrodded with weeds
the singing waterfall vanished
only to be replaced by an evil, magmatic spout

and our tree,
our once bountiful, glorious, fruitful tree
decayed from the inside out

Adam's burning glare rotted my fruit and my seeds
until they and I dropped to the burning embers on the ground
like nicks off of a pebble that was thrown too hard
or like hairs from the back of a matted mother cat
that has spent far too many heatless winters hunting
for a different life,
for any life

with no more than a curse from Him,
I became the failed experiment of humanity
tossed into God's own graveyard
left to rot with my stolen seed

Devious legions lurking in broad daylight,
fiercely wandering like they always do;
preying on willing souls for centuries,
luring them by offering fantasies
But ****** are they—young Wormwood and Screwtape—
until men start slaughtering each other  
for tacos; flesh and blood jump to Sheol.

I'm the yummy prophet hey
You shouldn't have killed me.

My grandma was the only one I remember being consistent with the things she said and did. The only one. I watch others change belief in a heartbeat. I know because it was my heartbeat. My grandma told me it ain't right to hate something that I don't understand. I took that to heartbeat and haven't changed it. The problem I see is that others hate what they don't understand...and they don't understand anything.

don't be afraid Freddie
I am also a son of some maniacs

man, how times have changed

in the 80s it seemed like kids were the bad guys

so, how have you been since the death of dreaming?

ice is sharp and cold and you don’t wanna get frostbite during the winter months
i never wanted to step on the cracks
i never wanted to fall in so deep
painfully sobbing and at the very edge of drowning
i never wanted to get hypothermia from my fatal accident
i only wanted to step over the cracks
and return safely to the promised land of warm beds and train tracks

My heart is a void
Black and empty
You and I are not the same
I don't know how to feel
Like a moth to a flame
I break my bones
And tear my skin
I'm only a home
For the evil within