Hot
on my heals.
The
dark con of man,
Stabs
at my watchful eye.
In
secret, everything waits,
Folded
under layers of dirt.
Fornicated
with devil-ettes,
Thy
heart races in times
Of
the darkest seasons,
And
the cruellest reasons,
To
be free of morality.
His
watchful gaze,
relentless
in the foreboding.
The
tempest of hatred,
A
scare amongst the demons.
Should
not they alone carry
All
this angst and hate ?
Who
am I amongst them,
To
be worthy to be
This
accomplice in Sheol ?
No
righteous being could,
Venture
down so deeply.
Surely
the god of all
Would
bring me up again.
So
surprised at free will,
Letting
her guarding arms,
Fold
about me under fire.
Wishing
me a brimstone bath,
And
memories of lusty nymphs.
Then
a crack of sound,
Peel
against the heavens.
I
have been lost,
Now
I am to be found,
Somewhere
far away
From
openness and human truth.
Perhaps
those ricochets resound
To
warn me of destruction,
I'm
not saved... I'm going down...
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