Monday, July 20, 2009

The Heart is Desperately Wicked

bloodshot eyes as he takes another sip of the poison, sip of the poison. he knows it's his bane; he knows it's his shame. so why does he drink? why do you think? the explosion in his brain has for a moment gone numb, for a moment gone numb. Thus to dust by rust and lust; condemning his trust; destroy him this must.

Oh, friends, I'm sick - sick - sick and tired of these charades - reality fades - down, fallen - rust-rot and rotten - corrupt by my luck - like vampires they suck - all of the life from the eyes - the light from the veins. my hate dries the rains - embraces demise - of all the good, as it dies - unfortunate that it never existed - extorted and twisted, polluted-like thoughts - as life rots, and it rots. "Farewell the tranquil mind; farewell content" - it's not what I meant. My facade is o'r-spent - you see, I've bent and I've bent - all the words that you meant - for good, into wood -that's decayed and dismayed - by vanity's spade as it should, like the wood, earth and un-earth - all the lies laced with flies - maggots that cry - from the
wound as it peels - cracks, burns, and scabs over with red, black, and white. - enveloped in night - no starlight this time - no amber beams of soft moonlight to caress this lonely, broken heart.

This raving may seem rampant, verbose - unseemly and gross - but this is my heart - the depraved, sinful part - forgive what I've writ - laced with dark, subliminal wit - it's not meant - to condemn or promote - this bile that i've wrote - but perhaps in it's despair - the reader can have a care - as I now illustrate a life - that has consciously cut himself off of the vine - take heed as you read - this writer, he
bleeds - and who drew this the blade across the author's nape? - none but himself - so gawk as I gape - my wound is fresh - fresh and red - with the blood that I've bled - and before I am dead - take the words that I've said - take them to heart - Your life is not yours - to have and to hold - This warning's not new -it's tattered and old - and while men's hearts grow cold - Satan's grows bold - so abandon your rights, your will, and your pride - cast yourself down - and stretch your arms wide - for your life is truly on the line - with each breath that you take - you have that much less time - so if you are fake - don't think that you're fine - so maybe you've fooled all of us who now watch - but beware - have a care - you'll soon have a double share of despair - and soon write a rhyme that is darker than mine.

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