The brain is a coiled mess of electric kleenex.
The devil is in pride.
The devil is in revenge.
Faith is in forgiveness
but that’s something too hard to find.
There are angels in the sky
but no matter how much we look up to them
they will only look down upon us with malice
because we can always find a way to destroy paradise.
Hell no longer needs to be an inferno,
it is filled beyond capacity with satan’s spawn
and the lack of personal space, the abundance of body heat is enough to make anyone regret their last breathe.
But the angels are lonely.
The once good souls are being lost to the temptations of evil
and I am tired of trying to make the blind see,
trying to make the deaf, hear,
trying to make the numb, feel,
trying to make the bland, taste,
trying to make the weak, smell.
I am tired of fighting for the cause.
I am weary of words, of poetry, of prose,
I am drained of resistance.
Sometimes my voice just can’t seem to work.
It forgets the reasons for the vibration.
My tongue can’t seem to remember where it has to go in order to form the correct sounds.
Speaking becomes entirely too much to ask
when I have something important to say
but my fingertips always know just where to start.
As if my life’s most pivotal moments are always meant to be played out like silent movies.
If chaplin were alive I’d show him up
because avoidance is my silence.
The pen in my veins takes over when sound gives out
because words do not rest in the back of my throat, no
they reside on the tips of my fingers and escape like it’s there only chance of staying alive.
Like it’s there only chance of breathing their next breathe.
Like it’s there only chance to survive.
But it’s been foggy lately
and I can’t see beyond a single line
and the angels look down harder upon me every time Truth arrives.
Because Truth puts his dirty hands all over me.
He puts the rings under my eyes, and the slouch in my shoulders, and then he calls me gorgeous.
Truth showers in my memories and dries himself with my darkest fears
and fear drips slowly down my spine
so I can never forget it.
Truth took off his mask and proved me to be a fool
because I relied so heavily in his façade, I swore by his lies,
I got on my knees and prayed to his propaganda machine.
Truth washed his hands with my past and left behind the ashes of beauty.
Truth stuck his dirty piece inside of me, stole my innocence and then he demanded me to leave.
And still.
And still.
Revenge has yet to overcome me.
And despite everything.
Faith still finds me cold and alone, mediating naked on my bedroom floor
while I look desperately for something so much more than this world has to offer.
But I will always remember the day I thought the angels in the sky winked at me.
And if I still believed in truth, I would say it with certainty, I would trust in God and I would trust in me but the only things I am dependent on now are faith and belief.
Because I have faith that I will live to see the day goodness prevails and I believe on that day, Truth will remove his thorns.
I just hope it will be someday soon
because the wait is getting dreadful and I want to find Truth in someone new.
