Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
You Can See Right Through It
Perhaps the screams came from me, muffled in shadows leeching distress from mortal skies. The stars, my wishes spread across turbulent lands and hands emblazoned with fallen faith. Appeasing smiles thrown across my face. "Be good," warn the angels. I glide on silver wings. I face the dark, I make it my soul. In my head, in my words, I am god. In my head, in my words, I am the reason god doesn't exist. I press fetid promises on my lips; they fade, turn into ashy lies and I pray a strong wind to carry them away. Again, I hold the world atop scarred and scabbed shoulders, until the pressure bends me to break. I thought I could see. I'm as blind as the rest. I shake; I quiver; I fall as small as crumbs, pushing limits, a piece at a time. I tingle. I'm single. I'm one. My mind, plural. My mind, glass.
1-14-09
1-14-09
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You Can See Right Through It
You Can See Right Through It
