Stretched out taut over a drum
is the skin of a dead man
who died at the hand of original sin.
Guilty from his very first breath,
till death he worked to right his wrongs,
only to always fail in the end.

Born a crook, his first steps
were taken in the sand;
left behind and blamed ,
the cup overflows with blood.

Bruised fruit hanging from a tree,
they dance through the flames while a drum
as dark as the night that's about to come
is beaten until it's broken by time
like his forebears' souls throughout the diaspora.

She died drunk as desolation
played her a gentle hymn
with flies crawling from under her tongue
and leaving her to her grave.

My tears made spots in
the dirt on her face,
we were in love with the chase of
highs we no longer attained.

Like sunken bug bites on her arm
with cuts all along her thigh,
I couldn't keep her from harm so we
cried through the nights as our highs
damaged us as much as the lows.

One day she moved no more,
having begged and beaten on the door
for too long till her hands were bruised,
and her soul failed her after so much disuse.

I've hidden amongst the hidden shadows
of a corrupted universe
spoiled by beings that deserve their fate:
to be kissed by flames for all eternity,
ravaged by the hounds of time,
and kissed by demons with poisoned lips.

I say farewell to my future's plans
and fall in line with the depths of my despair,
hoping my offensive death will change the tide
of regression back to the putrid mean.

Waltz upon decaying tile
until you've danced for miles and
find yourself at the intersection of
future passions and past despairs.

Then you have a choice to make,
to continue along the crumbling road,
sacrifice your life for misery's sake,
ration the odds for your salvation,
and insulate your heart and soul
from the whims of wicked winds;

or you can make the turn,
burn what's behind you, build
skyscrapers to fuel your highs,
and go full force, higher and higher,
then your apotheosis will be complete

I silently sit in sin and ponder
how it is I wound up here:
a drunken fool with no promise
of brighter days ahead.
I remember nights spent
awake thinking of her,
replaying the dreams I've had,
like the one where she
lunges into my arms and
proclaims with a kiss that
she loved me all along,
while I smelled the scent of
cinnamon on her breath,
persimmons on her skin,
and lilac in her blonde hair.
Now the clock strikes 2 am,
and misery gains another companion,
as I'm forced to use my sleepless nights
to remember dreams of better times.

I remember the nights spent with you,
under the stars and sharing a blunt,
back when my life was better,
and the **** only used for a bit of fun,
instead of the necessity it has become
as the alcohol was, once upon a time.

I've learned to blunt my pain with apathy,
choke back sobs with determination,
and to go into the bathroom
when my panic attacks come on.

I try and hide the pain from
my closest friends because
I'm afraid my misery will push them away,
and then I'll be alone again.

I've stayed my hand from
the hilt of the blade, for many reasons,
but you're the biggest; the person
I love most in the world
and the fact that I'm not ready
to leave you just yet.

I danced inside the eye of the storm
while winged beasts flew around me,
trying to get me off my game
to stay within the eye.
They beat their wings, in time
with the rotation of the storm,
as the earth stood still and
hell froze over as swine flew
into the twilight of our beings.