“So enjoyment never lasts long and mothers ignore their middle sons.”
“I intend to dream awake.”
Raised from a wayward slumber, you’re tumbling towards the false starts and bullet riddled whores that crept up from the downtown alleys only to prostitute themselves in search of a cigarette. Singing songs a sixpence and dancing with vaginal cancer never was your forte, at least not as much as your previous heterosexual dalliances would suggest but they don’t know you like I do and they never will.
“You know me?”
“Hell, I don’t know myself. All I want to know is who you are and why you care.”
“Jesus Christ?”
No, I could never have suggested such a thing. You’re too wrapped up in playing pass the parcel with severed body parts and damaged souls, an opportunist in a spiritual drought. A crippled mind misconstruing the needs of a hedonistic body that craves only to be near the next two bit rent boy that walks through that door. But you’re bound to know that.
“You can’t accuse me of anything!”
“I swear I’ll get to you!”
“I swear to God!”
God, you don’t know God. I met him once under a dumpster using buttons as currency bartering for a new syringe fresh from the emergency room. He doesn’t live in your chapels, your cathedrals, he lives and I quote in my heart and the heart of every good natured human being on this planet.
“I don’t want a lecture, I just want to go home that’s it.”
Home is where the heart is, but that’s too easy a thing to say, misguided delinquents often spout such phrases tearing themselves from the anal tracts of society making sure they look like the true pillars of decency. Human morality and mortality are inexplicably linked, born from the same womb, mothered by the same whore, stole from the same saviour who does nothing but care for us. Penance comes with a price, love comes without hope. Do you feel ready to repent? Can you release yourself from your petty ways?
“Love cries for my heart.”
“I have wept for my sins.”
“Can you not show mercy?”
May the Lord have mercy on your soul.
“I intend to dream awake.”
Raised from a wayward slumber, you’re tumbling towards the false starts and bullet riddled whores that crept up from the downtown alleys only to prostitute themselves in search of a cigarette. Singing songs a sixpence and dancing with vaginal cancer never was your forte, at least not as much as your previous heterosexual dalliances would suggest but they don’t know you like I do and they never will.
“You know me?”
“Hell, I don’t know myself. All I want to know is who you are and why you care.”
“Jesus Christ?”
No, I could never have suggested such a thing. You’re too wrapped up in playing pass the parcel with severed body parts and damaged souls, an opportunist in a spiritual drought. A crippled mind misconstruing the needs of a hedonistic body that craves only to be near the next two bit rent boy that walks through that door. But you’re bound to know that.
“You can’t accuse me of anything!”
“I swear I’ll get to you!”
“I swear to God!”
God, you don’t know God. I met him once under a dumpster using buttons as currency bartering for a new syringe fresh from the emergency room. He doesn’t live in your chapels, your cathedrals, he lives and I quote in my heart and the heart of every good natured human being on this planet.
“I don’t want a lecture, I just want to go home that’s it.”
Home is where the heart is, but that’s too easy a thing to say, misguided delinquents often spout such phrases tearing themselves from the anal tracts of society making sure they look like the true pillars of decency. Human morality and mortality are inexplicably linked, born from the same womb, mothered by the same whore, stole from the same saviour who does nothing but care for us. Penance comes with a price, love comes without hope. Do you feel ready to repent? Can you release yourself from your petty ways?
“Love cries for my heart.”
“I have wept for my sins.”
“Can you not show mercy?”
May the Lord have mercy on your soul.
