Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Sifting through the junk
I've been stabbed by premonitions
That consummate phantoms in my mind.
I hold a syringe of knowledge but cannot
Inject myself with any of it.
I spread it in paranoia to obscure demons
That pick and pull at my emotions.
My dreams are hypnotic with hate.
I've the compulsion to never sleep again
But my bones are tired.
I transform with rage and resonate
Sadness in every word I speak.
I hunger for the pill that will take it all away,
Yet I'm muted to a cure.
When I conquer the fear,
It's a feeling I've never known before.
It feels as silvery as the moon and I harp
On the loveliness of it until the feeling is no more.
My existence is small.
Vermilion sighs and a depression that
Mists over me, makes me crave my own blood.
I swallow down the darkness.
I'm pale with unknowing and what
Little innocent I had was stolen away
From me in a hue of grays and whites.
What remains is a shell,
A pathetic casing anemic of care
And devoid of hope.
The world is mercurial Read more →in taste but,
I've crammed as much of myself into the smallest spaces
Because then I can hold onto what little faith
Rests within me.
11-23-11
That consummate phantoms in my mind.
I hold a syringe of knowledge but cannot
Inject myself with any of it.
I spread it in paranoia to obscure demons
That pick and pull at my emotions.
My dreams are hypnotic with hate.
I've the compulsion to never sleep again
But my bones are tired.
I transform with rage and resonate
Sadness in every word I speak.
I hunger for the pill that will take it all away,
Yet I'm muted to a cure.
When I conquer the fear,
It's a feeling I've never known before.
It feels as silvery as the moon and I harp
On the loveliness of it until the feeling is no more.
My existence is small.
Vermilion sighs and a depression that
Mists over me, makes me crave my own blood.
I swallow down the darkness.
I'm pale with unknowing and what
Little innocent I had was stolen away
From me in a hue of grays and whites.
What remains is a shell,
A pathetic casing anemic of care
And devoid of hope.
The world is mercurial Read more →in taste but,
I've crammed as much of myself into the smallest spaces
Because then I can hold onto what little faith
Rests within me.
11-23-11
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Sifting through the junk
Sifting through the junk
