Monday, February 18, 2013

Hot on my heals.

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...