(no subject)
Where does the pain go? The screams? The wails for Mercy?
Spent and cast aside like so much ash in a poor man's crematorium.
And as it drifts to places we cannot see, who rescues and gathers the remains?
Who will make the torment of our lives matter?. . .weigh them on justice's scales?
St. Peter at the gate will perhaps take our burden as we are ushered toward some beatufuc mistland of serenity.
There can be only one form of repayment for such debt.
But we all know deep in the bleak, encrusted crevices of our untoward being that tolls remain unpaid. A balance owing hangs like a jagged blade--waiting.
Needing.
One Reckoning.
Life is fluid.
Death thirsts.
She was so beautiful.
so precious.
So, to sell herself for MONEY!. . .
Taintin god's temple.. .!
One must never sell oneself short.
Life is a journey of spiritual discovery and he will send her as he has so many others.
Clarity. Irony. the worshipper about to be crushed by that which he so worships.
There are smiles on the faces of the saints that imbue. The silent scream and heavy splash of blood is a choral hyumn. A form of respectful supplication.
The remaking has begun. Themaking of balance.
The paybox. is open
The wages of fewar await their taxation.
Where does the pain go? The Screams? The wails for mercy?
Who will make the torment of our lives matter? weigh them on justice's scales?
Life if fluid. Death thirsts.
Suffice to say. . . she drinks.
Spent and cast aside like so much ash in a poor man's crematorium.
And as it drifts to places we cannot see, who rescues and gathers the remains?
Who will make the torment of our lives matter?. . .weigh them on justice's scales?
St. Peter at the gate will perhaps take our burden as we are ushered toward some beatufuc mistland of serenity.
There can be only one form of repayment for such debt.
But we all know deep in the bleak, encrusted crevices of our untoward being that tolls remain unpaid. A balance owing hangs like a jagged blade--waiting.
Needing.
One Reckoning.
Life is fluid.
Death thirsts.
She was so beautiful.
so precious.
So, to sell herself for MONEY!. . .
Taintin god's temple.. .!
One must never sell oneself short.
Life is a journey of spiritual discovery and he will send her as he has so many others.
Clarity. Irony. the worshipper about to be crushed by that which he so worships.
There are smiles on the faces of the saints that imbue. The silent scream and heavy splash of blood is a choral hyumn. A form of respectful supplication.
The remaking has begun. Themaking of balance.
The paybox. is open
The wages of fewar await their taxation.
Where does the pain go? The Screams? The wails for mercy?
Who will make the torment of our lives matter? weigh them on justice's scales?
Life if fluid. Death thirsts.
Suffice to say. . . she drinks.