V. The Confession
In my previous life i was a predator
i relied on death to give me life.
i swore an oath to a chemical signal,
and the feedback stimulus which echoed in my maw.
today, i am a shepherd
fetishized to feed
the pretender's goat
and the battle for Eden.
i desire only what i lack.
i aim my confessions
at the rising sun.
starry is the fire
of my sacrifice.
it reveals the wish
in my whimper.
i have a violent soul.
my words are murderers.
my mouth is a vacuum.
but i dare not act.
raw language will devour the symphonies of angels. aeons will laugh at each other's faces. each of their smiles will pertain to their tortures. consumption has an angelic touch and each of its mythologies have a son who kills his father.
if we could only judge ourselves
there would be no need for hell.
Selah.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Popular Posts
-
with bombs or some opportunity the magazines of the barely perceptible public will be oriented toward their pressure groups...
-
ammonia anymore the ground-up tops of your key cannot handle a directory you screw into being easily translated into fiftee...
-
as ser t t hat d eb t may not have been ac ion ble at pr ent n f ct that it belonged to one party is thereby revealed a...
-
Dear Readers, It's been a long time since I've updated either of these projects and it's time to formally move on from them. T...
No comments:
Post a Comment