The irony was lost to him, of complaining of polluted skies, when the remains of burning plant matter left his lungs. You are the victim and the perpetrator, to the crimes that you cry wolf to. You are the God of your own anguish, Mothered by pain, and your reluctance to change. Fathered by the passing of time, that makes you realize– your own mortality.
There is a space, between life and death; It’s called the human mind. The waters within, are none like Lethe. Here, no wisdom lies beneath. In a space that brought forth many a war, the numbers now seem but to accost, the lives therein lost, that is now but lore; and their tears that fill up that river of gore. I live in this space, As we all do, In someone’s reality, As someone’s fool. […]
On a wickedly splendid day we sang, To higher powers within, As the sun rose through – -The Dark that day; A fear within me sprang. I went right home, And fervently prayed, For the fear in my heart; to remove, And the beast on my shoulders; to slay. Pages from the Holy Scriptures, I tore and plastered to my walls, And, the Red of Forgiveness, I showered in, tall. Paraphernalia, paraphernalia, Yes, the Heart…my […]