Complexity within the confines
of a confessional
a guillotine to slay their dreams
excommunicate me from your Hell
I’ll see you in the 8th circle
and welcome you with a kiss and a smile
there you will eternally sleep on a spike
and your eyes will bleed obsidian
until the seventh trumpet sounds
Inspiration…
mere translation of
a bastard thought
that injects feeling and emotion
like a heroine needle
digging around in
the vein of your brain
chemicals meet flesh
the perfect equation
that produces man made perception
that substitutes for epiphany
dividing reason from reality
leaving Heaven disfigured
making it darker than
the deepest pit in Hell
Chariots of Fire,
sail me through,
the cosmos,
while I pluck,
Angel’s tears from
the sky…
Seeking a place just,
as perfect as Deiopea’s eye…
Orion,
cut me down,
so that my death mask,
may cover all my,
trails of age,
that have intersected,
vertex to vertex…
When Fortune smiles upon another, and men scorn with slanted eyes,
I silenty weep within the chambers of my mind,
I cry out to the Architect of Life , waiting…with no reply,
Shamefully I look at this miserable life,
Wanting to once again bask in hope,
With fame and friends among me,
I lust for their perceptions and abilities,
Things that brought me peace are all hollow now,
I damn myself because of my envy,
I think fondly of you, but I am again reminded of these things,
Like the pheonix rising from forgotten embers,
I sing praises to Saint Peter through the Pearly Gates,
because of the memory, still warm from your love,
My frown fades, slowly weathering away
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