Hate compels me, move.
a nasty little nagging
flickering aborted apparition
inflames my abysmal abandon.....
insomnia gnaws at the base of my skull,
and my lungs caress a shiv
deep behind me somewhere,
lies the figurine I pray to.
it has long since betrayed me....
but with reckless abandon
and quivering lips
I crucify myself for it.
Brother, the divine purge is coming,
and it will be no gentle nosebleed.
The forecast calls for a tsunami of anhilation.
So grab a board and we'll surf the scarred ruin.
Splashed by playful false hope and placebos.
Fake Martyrs, cash prophets, and charlatans dirty us for the fall.
Our once hopeful, faithful hearts gone still with the loaded hand of Fake
grasped greedilly around the strings.
Forgotten at soccer practice,
betrayed and left in the backwash of society
after that first cannon blast of the angry
bitter fallout of greed built on faith.
Or is it vice versa?
Betrayed by these drive thru saviors.
But at least we have a whole generation to feel alone with.
A whole civilization of disenfranchised, godless frankness.
Stripped of our community,
our ability to love,
our need in anyone, or anything
but the infallible, ineffible, indestructible
All mighty dollar.
