Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Living in the Womb

The rusk and grain separate you and the pain.

In the desert sand, the rattler shakes like mad.

Who will win you over? Judas or Mary Jane; one mans misery is another mans gain

Defiling and spreading, slowly turning (vermin). Becoming nothing again and again and again.

Sit down; stand up, enjoy the glass of wine sans singer sans song.

Slow down; pick up. Life is turmoil, chaos breeding mistrust.

Point fast, Shoot last. Pity there is no one to put me in my casket;

So sure? So surely you will come for the funeral. Pick up an end; bury one under the molten rain

Defy! Decide! Deicide!. Don’t doom yourself to this lie. I have become the ravenous hunger that I hope you surely despise.

Cross over and kiss oh so so slow. Oh how I bit off more than I could chew. But the ride is never ending. Sorry to tell you but you got a ticket love; for eternity

Two pennies for your eyes. For the ferryman to be bribed. Taking you over to the other shore. Where blood meets wine, wine meets lips, and those lips; they surely must go… get aboard!

Travel travails that must not last. The ferryman bores your dead real fast. Oh how the Styx overflows into the boat. Of gold and mildewed lava to burn my skin. Nothing favors sin like delicious sin.

Thrown overboard like a whore; croaked and choked and oh so bored. The god Anubis waiting for me at the door; Kiss the snake and guard the gate. Your end; was it worth the wait?

Its your birthday child of the damned. It’s your renewal to ancient love of the land. Your journey repels you to even try to think another one might be at hand.

Had enough of changing cloaks so soon; death and life and living in the womb. Over and over and over till the end. The end in sight and no end so right.

Would you hold my hands and walk with me/ The child flutters like a kite in spring summers glee. Oh wicked son of god; you entice me once more. That I be smitten by innocence and enter the world of addictive gore. I put my head down and sigh ‘Once more; No more; once more’

Look another one born, the child so complete yet so lovelorn. He is the master, he be very well the slave. He will grow up to be our savior. Before we once again bury him in his grave!

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