Polyamorphous
Getting caught under the wheels of an outbound tooth ride, spinal taffy pull straight shot up into an empty home. Chewing sheets of ice trying to stay afloat in a tornado. One can pretend it's G-d when there is nothing else to pray to, one will be your god when you are faithless, pray to it and receive my crippled blessing. Empty eyes looking down onto me, words bound to the wheel, broken there and hanging on display for sight. Steel bullet filled with the love only a mother can posses it finds it's way through my path, paved it's way into the ground, sealed up with a song played so often it's lost it's meaning, and it's origins not of common knowledge.
Little teeth don't bite so often, little teeth don't chatter so much, little teeth don't smile for me like they used to; but the long teeth sneer, the long teeth tear, the long teeth drink my blood and drain one of life.
Pray for the passing, meditate on the encompassing stale old places, one finds the void in the hollow and hears the echos of dead words. Idealistic bondage if it's uttered it must be true?
If one hated all day for the day all day long would it make an ounce of difference if it mattered if justice were done?
Does the song sung by the empty heads make the flesh warm, does the surrender to banality feel like slipping into a lover's arms?
The slit wrists were held high, the neck stretched for the noose, there is nothing found except a pool of spent life.
Not a damn conviction, not a damn nail in that coffin, there is no body in sound and there is no body in the prison cemetery.
Show me the foundations of prayer and I will tread carefully so as not to sink.
Show it the sweat and blood spent in faith and ambition and one will walk between your drops.
Show one the anguish, the broken body and I will only look on itself for good measure.
Give unto me succor for it is a sweet savour unto the lord thy G-D.
Little teeth don't bite so often, little teeth don't chatter so much, little teeth don't smile for me like they used to; but the long teeth sneer, the long teeth tear, the long teeth drink my blood and drain one of life.
Pray for the passing, meditate on the encompassing stale old places, one finds the void in the hollow and hears the echos of dead words. Idealistic bondage if it's uttered it must be true?
If one hated all day for the day all day long would it make an ounce of difference if it mattered if justice were done?
Does the song sung by the empty heads make the flesh warm, does the surrender to banality feel like slipping into a lover's arms?
The slit wrists were held high, the neck stretched for the noose, there is nothing found except a pool of spent life.
Not a damn conviction, not a damn nail in that coffin, there is no body in sound and there is no body in the prison cemetery.
Show me the foundations of prayer and I will tread carefully so as not to sink.
Show it the sweat and blood spent in faith and ambition and one will walk between your drops.
Show one the anguish, the broken body and I will only look on itself for good measure.
Give unto me succor for it is a sweet savour unto the lord thy G-D.